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Anderson, Sherwood, 1876-1941

"Windy McPherson's Son"


The driver whipped the horses and looked back laughing. The woman got up
and kneeling on the seat of the carriage laughed down into the faces of
the running boys.
"Run, you little devils," she cried.
They held on, running furiously. Their legs twinkled and flashed under the
lights.
"Give me a silver dollar," she said, turning to Sam, and when he had given
it to her, threw it ringing upon the pavement under a street lamp. The two
boys darted for it, shouting and waving their hands to her.
Swarms of huge flies and beetles circled under the street lamps, striking
Sam and the woman in the face. One of them, a great black crawling thing,
alighted on her breast, and taking it in her hand she crept forward and
dropped it down the neck of the driver.
In spite of his hard drinking during the afternoon and evening, Sam's head
was clear and a calm hatred of life burned in him. His mind ran back over
the years he had passed since breaking his word to Sue, and a scorn of all
effort burned in him.
"It is what a man gets who goes seeking Truth," he thought. "He comes to a
fine end in life."
On all sides of him life ran playing on the pavement and leaping in the
air. It circled and buzzed and sang above his head in the summer night
there in the heart of the city.


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