Oh Lordy, Lordy! can be found in


by William Patterson White

Author of "High Pockets," "Lynch Lawyers," etc.

ANDY BALL was so thin he couldn't shift his chew without losing his balance; he owned more freckles to the square foot than a leopard with the measles, and he was in love usual and extensive. He'd a girl in Swing Valley—hasher at the hotel—and two in Torpedo, till they found each other out; he'd another at Morgan's, one at Deep Creek, and the Rafter O cook, all in one year. Which is siftin' along, I'll say.

Outside of his being a idjit thisaway, six foot tall and a little bow-legged, Andy was right human. If he ever used any judgment I didn't know it. I remember special the time he turned his loving nature loose on a three-hundred-pound squarehead young lady with her features all in the middle of her face and a figure so graceful she looked the same anywhere you stood.

Her name was Susy Svenson, and her pa owned a claim back of Baldy. One day, when Andy and me were riding in from the Blue Creek range, we stopped for the night at Ole Svenson's. From that fatal moment, as the man says, his loving nature like to been the death of Andy.

After supper him and Susy got almighty friendly—she could cook like a house afire—and nothing must do the lady but she's got to take Andy into the setting-room and show him the photograph album, which is squarehead for a large evening.

After a while the lamp went out or something, and Susy made a mistake in the dark, missed the chair she's aiming for, and sat down on top of Andy. This was too much for the self-respect of Andy's chair. It busted simultaneous, and the floor is next. The jar overset a fancy clock, weighing six pounds and a quarter, off the chimney shelf, and the same fetched Andy a healthy swipe square between the eyes. Taking the lady and the clock together thisaway knocked Andy cold like a mule had kicked him.

It took thirty minutes and half the tank to bring him to.

"Let's go," he snuffles in my ear when he's able to stand. "Let's go—now."

But going away ain't so simple as he says it. He made the mistake of calling goodby before he's topped his horse, and Susy reached the upper gate first. Go? I guess not. "I skoll gass not!"

"I ban like you, Andy," she says, looking like a stuffed tent in the moonlight and not minding me a-tall. "More better you stay un talk to your leetle Susy."

"We gotta be pulling our freight," protests Andy, starting to swing up quick. Susy reached out one hand to his collar, and he stopped just as quick.

"Lat's go in de house," she says with' a smile you could button behind her ears, and giving him a playful shake that made his teeth rattle. "I ban make you some kaffee."

If it had been poison she was fixing to feed him he couldn't have gone along more reluctant.

"By hal," says Ole, looking after 'em, "I tank I lose mein leetle gal."

"I'll bet Andy wishes he could," I says unthinking.

"He ban like her, huh?" asks Ole, missing the point a mile.

"How can he help it?" says I. "Love at first sight, Ole, that's what."

"Yaw, yaw," says he vigorous. "I gas mabbe I find me gude cook somevare pretty —— quick."

Ole and me tracked along up to the house. Going by the kitchen I looked in the window. There's Andy sitting on a chair in the comer and grinding the coffee like he hadn't a minute to lose.

"By yiminy," Susy was saying, "I skoll teach you how to c...

This is only a preview of this story. The site administrator is evaluating methods to bring it to you.