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Both of Herbert's eyes were swollen tight shut and Eddie was able to see out of only one of his. After sitting restlessly on the porch for a half hour, they got into their car and started for home. "What are you laughing at, Tony?" asked Bob, as they watched the car disappear down the lane. "The boys no-a like-a da work, and-a the bees they no-a like-a da boys."
The news of his death reached the ears of John Ardinburgh, a grandson of the old Colonel; and he declared that 'Bomefree, who had ever been a kind and faithful slave, should now have a good funeral. And now, gentle reader, what think you constituted a good funeral? Answer-some black paint for the coffin, and-a jug of ardent spirits!
"I understand-a da work," replied Tony, "and I like-a da live in-a da country, if you no-a make-a me sleep in-a da barn." "Where do you come from?" asked Bob. "From Italia. My fader, he-a da contracdisto and I learn-a da mase and-a da carpendero." "Well, why didn't you stay in Italy?" asked Bob.
I no-a da farmer I-a da mase and-a da carpendero." Bob exchanged glances with his uncle, who shook his head. "What's your name?" he asked, suddenly turning to the applicant. "Tony." "What do you say, Uncle Joe, if we have Tony go down to the house with us and talk the matter over with Aunt Bettie? He might be the man we could use at the sand pit.
Hey, Bob, show them where you want your bees. Better take them right over to the orchard and set them up where you intend to keep them this summer." "I've got a place already fixed for them," he replied. Then as Tony came near he called, "Do you understand how to talk to Italian bees, Tony?" "Yes, I know-a da bees and-a da bees know-a me no-a sting," said Tony.
"Oh, you're one of the plumber's men?" asked Bob, thinking perhaps his aunt might have asked to have some men sent out to work on the new cellar under the washroom where the hot-water heater was to go. "No, I no-a da plumb. I-a da mase and-a da carpendero." "Oh, you want a job?" asked Bob, catching his meaning. "Yes-a, da job, but no-a work-a da field.
Poor Tom, trusting implicitly in the wife he loved, and making his will only as a precautionary measure, at a time when he seemed good for fifty years of life and strength, had not troubled himself about remote contingencies, and had in no wise foreseen the probability of a second husband for Georgy and-a stepfather for his child. Two children had been born to Mr.
So with Sir Peter Lely, with Petitot, with Vandyck, with every great artist who painted kings and queens and court beauties. Then, again, a certain style of beauty becomes the rage, and-a skilful painter flatters each fair sitter in turn by bringing up her features, or her expression, or the color of her hair, as near as possible to the fashionable standard.
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