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Fanny had scarcely touched the breakfast before her, and now pushed aside her cup still half filled with coffee. “Why, how’s that? Sampson seems to do the right thing.” “Yes, Sampson; but he ain’t here. That boy of Minervy’s been doing his work all morning.”
He does seem to like to talk about you to me, and I feel so sorry for him I guess I could comfort him a little, for it seems as if it would be the nicest thing in the world to have some one like you that way for years, just as they do in books, only every time I think about being a comfort to him I think he belongs to you and it ain’t right.
Betsy’s eyes glowed, but she looked down unconcernedly at the pretty gown. “Don’t spec it fit me. An’ you know Miss T’rèse ain’t gwine let me go flyin’ roun’ wid my laigs stickin’ out dat away.” “I’ll let the ruffle down, Betsy,” eagerly proposed Ninette. “Betsy!” called Thérèse a little impatiently. “Yas, ’um I ben waitin’ fu’ de cups.”
Lawrence looks as old as you, and handles himself more grown up, somehow.” “He’s bigger,” Irving sighed. “Yes, ’t ain’t only that,” drawled Mr. Beasley. “Though ’t is a pity you’re so spindling; good thing for a teacher to be able to lay on the switch good and hard when needed.” “I don’t believe they punish with the switch at St. Timothy’s.” “Then I guess they don’t learn the boys much.
Leander, the fat lady, and Miss Carmichael meekly murmured assent and condemnation. "And there ain’t a sign of him," said Mrs. Dax, returning to the house after straining the landscape through her all-observant eye, and not detecting him in any of the remote pin-pricks on the horizon, in which these plainsfolk invariably decipher a herd of antelope, an elk or two, or a horseman.
“At first I near go crazy with lonesomeness,” he said frankly, “but my woman is got such a warm heart. She always make it as good for me as she could. Now it ain’t so bad; I can begin to have some fun with my boys, already!”
I talk to nobody about ’orses except lords.’ ‘Well,’ said I, ‘I have been called a lord in my time.’ ‘It must have been by a thimble-rigger, then,’ said the coachman, bending back, and half turning his face round with a broad leer. ‘You have hit the mark wonderfully,’ said I. ‘You coachmen, whatever else you may be, are certainly no fools.’ ‘We ain’t, ain’t we?’ said the coachman. ‘There you are right; and, to show you that you are, I’ll now trouble you for your fare.
"All I seem to remember is my marchin’ in the boolyvard along with a guy in baggy red pants, and my chewin’ the rag in a big, hot room full o’ soldiers; an’ Heinie an’ Joe they was shoutin’, ’Wow! Lemme at ’em. Veeve la France!’ Wha’ d’ye know about me? Ain’t I the mark from home?" "You didn’t realize that you were enlisting?"
"The wimmin treats her scabby—just scabby. Don’t you go to thinkin’ she ain’t a good girl on that account"; and something like an attitude of chivalrous protection straightened the apologetic crook in his craven outline. "She’s good, just good, and when a woman’s that there’s no use in sayin’ it any more fanciful.
But then they called in th’ army, an’ we had to ride for it. Scattered so they had more’n one trail to follow. But they posted us as ’wanted’ back there. So I come whippin’ a mighty tired hoss outta Texas, an’ I ain’t plannin’ on goin’ back to any Fifth Military District!" "Any chance they’ll push a star after you here?" "No.
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