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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 410 pages of information about Samantha at the World's Fair.

Then, heart-hungry and lonesome, he broke through the vow he had made, and writ to Isabelle; but Isabelle had gone from the old place—­she didn’t git the letters.

Then he writ agin, for his love wuz strong and his pride weak—­weak as a cat.  True Love will always have that effect on pride and resolve, etc.

But no answer came back to his longin’ and waitin’ heart.

And then, I spoze, Pride kinder riz up agin, and he said to himself that he wouldn’t worry her and weary her with letters that she didn’t think enough of to answer.

And he had about made up his mind that all he should ever see of Isabelle would be the shadder of her beauty in the girl by the old medder bars, standin’ in the fresh grasses, by the laughin’ brook, all lookin’ so like the dear old farm when he won her love so long ago.

That dead, mute, irresponsive picture wuz more to him than any livin’, breathin’ woman could ever be.

So he camped down before it, as you may say, for life—­that is, he thought so; but Providence wuz a-watchin’ over him, and his thoughtful, unselfish kindness to a stranger, or strangers, wuz to be rewarded with the prize of love and bliss.

Wall, the World’s Fair wuz, I spoze, looked on by many a pair of glad eyes.  Hearts that throbbed high with happiness beat on through them majestic rooms.  But happier hearts and gladder eyes never glowed and rejoiced in ’em than Isabelle’s and her handsome lover’s.

And wuzn’t Krit glad?  Wuzn’t he glad of soul to see Isabelle’s happiness?  Yes, indeed!  And Maggie and Thomas Jefferson.

Why, of course we wouldn’t sing out loud in public, not for anything.  We knew it wouldn’t do to go along the streets or in the halls and corridors of the World’s Fair, a-singin’ as loud as we could—­

“Joy to the World!”

Or, “What amazin’ bliss is this!” or anything else of that kind—­no, we wuz too well-bread to attempt it; but inside of us we jest sung for joy, the hull set and caboodle of us.

All but Miss Plank, and a few old maids and widders, and such, who mebby had had hopes.  Miss Plank looked and acted as flat and crushed down as one of her favorite cakes, or as if she wuz a-layin’ under her own sirname.

She said she hated to lose the profit of such a boarder, and mebby that wuz it—­I don’t say it wuzn’t.  But this I know, wimmen will keep up hopes, moles or no moles, and age has no power to keep out expectations.

But I make no insinuations, nor will take none.  She said that it wuz money she hated to lose, and mebby it wuz.

But on that question I riz up her hopes agin, for Mr. Freeman wuz bound on bein’ married imegatly and to once, and he said that they would remain right there for the remainder of the year at least.

Isabelle hung off, and wanted to go back to Jonesville and be married to our house, as I warmly urged ’em to.

But Mr. Freeman, lookin’ decided and firm as anything you ever see, he sez to Isabelle—­

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