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"If old Scraggsy's crazy he's crazy like a fox. What's rilin' him is the knowledge that he's stung to the heart an' can't admit it without at the same time admittin' he'd cooked up a deal to double-cross us. He's just a-bustin' with the thoughts that's accumulatin' inside him. Right now he'd drown his sorrers in red liquor if he could afford it." "He's troubled financially, Gib."
"What d'you think it says here?" she demanded of her sister-members of the ladies' aid. "Sh!" "Ella Painter, you're a-bustin' up the show!" admonished a motherly old person at the end of the table. But Mrs. Painter did not notice these hushed remarks.
"This letter kim to her father a long time ago, and she ast me to ast you to think of her father abaout it gentle as you can an' I'm a-astin' you to think of him gentle," the lad's voice suddenly rose shrilly, and he jumped to his feet, "an' I'm a-bustin' to have you say you won't think of him gentle, er sumpin 'at I cayn't stan' an 'll hit you fer! I'm jesta boy, Mist' Steerin', but good God!"
I knew jest how dear crape wuz, and I tackled her on the subject, and sez I "Do you know, S. Annie, these dresses of your'n will cost a sight?" "Cost?" sez she, a-bustin' out a-cryin'. "What do I care about cost? I will do everything I can to respect his memory. I do it in remembrance of him." Sez I, gently, "S. Annie, you wouldn't forget him if you wuz dressed in white.
"'I'm shorely depressed to say it, Dave, says the alcalde, who is a sport named Steele, 'but you've been a-bustin' of ord'nances about playin' music on the street without no license. "'Can't we-all beat the game no way? says Dave. "'Which I shorely don't see how, says the alcalde. "'Nor me neither, says Franklin.
"Ye're plumb welcome ter turn them dawgs loose, an' let 'em ramble, stranger. Nobody hain't a-goin' ter hurt 'em. I sees some fellers out thar with ye thet mustn't cross my fence. Ef they does" the voice rang menacingly "hit'll mean that they're a-bustin' the truce an' they won't never go out ag'in. But you air safe in hyar. I gives yer my hand on thet. Ye're welcome, an' yore dawgs is welcome.
"Ah! and what else did John Pringle say?" I inquired, setting down my cup. "Why, 'e come into 'The Bull' all wet an' wild-like, an' wi' 'is two eyes a-stickin' out like gooseberries! 'E comes a-bustin' into the 'tap' an' never says a word till 'e's emptied Old Amos's tankard that bein' nighest. Then 'By Goles! says 'e, lookin' round on us all, 'by Goles!
I forgot where I was, I forgot that Sinfi was standing outside the door, till I heard the woman's voice exclaiming, 'What do you want to set on my bed an' look at me like that for? you ain't no p'leaceman in plain clothes, so none o' your larks. Git off o' my bed, will ye? You'll be a-settin' on my bad leg an' a-bustin' on it in a minit.
I haven't seen her for a long while now, but her dodge used to be to come here on rainy nights, and stand bare-headed and sing and sell just when the theatres was a-bustin'. She gets a good lot, I fancy, by that dodge. 'The Essex Street Beauty? 'Oh, I thought you know'd p'raps.
I knew jest how dear crape wuz, and I tackled her on the subject, and sez I "Do you know, S. Annie, these dresses of your'n will cost a sight?" "Cost?" sez she, a-bustin' out a-cryin'. "What do I care about cost? I will do everything I can to respect his memory. I do it in remembrance of him." Sez I, gently, "S. Annie, you wouldn't forget him if you wuz dressed in white.
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