And there is that city belle, who wished to become
a second Rosa Bonheur; you have left her in the pasture fleeing for her
life, with the vicious bull in full pursuit, her sketch-book flying in the
air. Now, surely by this time the brute has killed her, or she has died of
fright. Then there are several other characters all left in some dilemma
that must be settled by this time in some way or other," and gaily talking,
she brought out her writing tablet and set it across her knee.
"Well, it seems to me, Dexie, that as soon as I get my characters into some
trouble I lose all interest in them; I wonder what trait that represents in
myself," he added, musingly. "Finish the stories yourself, Dexie. I am sick
and tired of them, so get them out of the fix they are in the best way you
can."
"Well, how would you like to begin something new, papa?" her only idea
being to get his mind occupied, and this had been a wonderful means of
diversion ever since he was hurt.
"Not to-day, Dexie. I think I am too full of your little romance to invent
anything new. Finish up those old things and let me see how you get on.
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