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Then he set his hook and cast it out to a plop in the slow passing
water, and said with his back still to me, "No, Miss Clara, I
don’t care to judge folks. There’s plenty enough of that goin’
around."
Then I surprised my own self, but apparently not Mr. Finley
beside me with, "Would you care to judge me?"
He turned to me then, and he looked so kind and true.
"No, Miss Clara. No, I wouldn’t, because I don’t have enough
of that tale neither, nor have I ever ast for it."
Oh, how I wanted to trade his secret for mine, so I gathered
up my breath and went ahead with it.
"We’ve come to be friends, haven’t we, Mr. Finley?"
"Yes, to my great pleasure I like to believe that, Miss Clara,"
he said softer, sitting down beside me. A couple of loose rocks
shifted.
I looked straight ahead, across the creek and into the trees. "I
fear so, that you’ve heard things of me. Of my past, and perhaps
of my character. Of my situation, you see."
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