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The Project Gutenberg eBook, August First, by Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews and Roy Irving Murray, Illustrated by A. I. Keller This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: August First Author: Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews and Roy Irving Murray Release Date: June 7, 2006 [eBook #18529] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) ***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AUGUST FIRST*** E-text prepared by Al Haines Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustration. See 18529-h.htm or 18529-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/8/5/2/18529/18529-h/18529-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/8/5/2/18529/18529-h.zip) AUGUST FIRST by MARY RAYMOND SHIPMAN ANDREWS and ROY IRVING MURRAY Illustrated by A. I. Keller [Frontispiece: "She--that's it--that's the gist of it--fool that I am."] New York Charles Scribner's Sons 1915 Copyright, 1915, by Charles Scribner's Sons Published March, 1915 AUGUST FIRST "Whee!" The long fingers pulled at the clerical collar as if they might tear it away. The alert figure swung across the room to the one window not wide open and the man pushed up the three inches possible. "Whee!" he brought out again, boyishly, and thrust away the dusty vines that hung against the opening from the stone walls of the parish house close by. He gasped; looked about as if in desperate need of relief; struck back the damp hair from his face. The heat was insufferable. In the west black-gray clouds rolled up like blankets, shutting out heaven and air; low thunder growled; at five o'clock of a midsummer afternoon it was almost dark; a storm was coming fast, and coolness would come with it, but in the meantime it was hard for a man who felt heat intensely just to get breath. His eyes stared at the open door of the room, down the corridor which led to the room, which turned and led by another open door to the street. "If they're coming, why don't they come and get it over?" he murmured to himself; he was stifling--it was actual suffering. He was troubled to-day, beyond this affliction of heat. He was
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