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"Yes, the 'Scrubbs. Can you see 'em?" "Yes." "Quite distinct?" "Quite." "That's awright." Miss Nippett sighed with some content. "If 'e don't come soon, 'e'll be too late," murmured Miss Nippett after an interval of seeming exhaustion. Mavis waited with ears straining for the sound of the knocker on the front door. Miss Nippett lay so that her weakening eyes could watch the door of the bedroom.
Only at the door as Billy climbed out Mark leaned toward him and said in a low growl: "You're all right, Kid! You're the best friend a man ever had! I appreciate what you did!" "Aw!" squirmed Billy, pulling down his cap, "That's awright! See you t'morra' Cart! S'long!" And Billy stalked slowly down the street remembering for the first time that he had his aunt yet to reckon with.
"Well," demanded Loring, "did'ja get anything set up, Shinny?" "Mr. Shinny!" growled the little man, with surprising vigor. "I'm old enough to be your father!" "Awright awright Mr. Shinny!" sneered Loring. "Did'ja get it?" The little man shook his head. "Nothing on the market, Billy boy." He paused and aimed a stream of tobacco juice at a near-by cuspidor. Loring looked relieved. "Just as well.
After much delay an unknown voice answered the 'phone, and told her Mr. Carter could not come now. She asked who it was but got no response, except that Mr. Carter couldn't come now. The voice had a muffled, thick sound. "Tell him to call me then as soon as possible," she said, and the voice answered, "Awright!" Reluctantly she hung up the receiver and called Morton to help her dress.
"They're pomps," repeated the older sister, positively, "an' we'll bring you simple toys if poor children will exchange with us." This was at least extenuating. Genevieve Maud hesitated and sniffed. In the matter of being stripped, toys were more important than clothes. "If you don't, you know, you can't play," Grace Margaret reminded her. "Awright," remarked Genevieve Maud, briefly.
A faint look of gratification crossed the boy's face, but he only said stoically: "Twelve year's my age." "What do you do in the wintertime when there isn't much odd-jobbing? How do you get along then?" "I git along awright. Sometimes I git help. Off a lady here, a frien' o' mine." "What lady? What's her name?" "Name o' Miss Mary. Miss Carstair, some calls her. I git money and clo's off her.
"Well, he made his get-away like a man with some reason for being elsewhere." "Reason enough. He was afraid." "Maybe. Being afraid's a queer thing," remarked her escort academically. "Now, me, I'm afraid of a fuzzy caterpillar. But I ain't exactly timid about other things." "You certainly aren't. And I don't know how to thank you." "Aw, that's awright, miss. What else could I do?
"Get that character out here to help us inflate and rig his own equipment! We did enough for him! So if the Force notices that there are ten bubbs instead of nine, the extra is still just our spare... Hey Tiflin!" "Nuts I'm looking after Pantywaist," Tiflin growled back. "Awright," Art returned. "So we just cast your junk adrift! Come on, boy!" There was no kidding in the dry tone.
"It's awright; it's my Oscar," she remarked. Then what appeared to be a youth of eighteen years of age entered the kitchen. He was dark, with a receding forehead; his chin, much too large for his face, seemed as if it had been made for somebody else. His absence of expression, together with the feeling of discomfort that at once seized Mavis, told her that he was an idiot.
But you never would have guessed, as Lynn Severn turned at the end of her melody to search the dimness for the presence she felt had entered, that he had been under any stress of emotion, the way he grinned at her and sidled up the aisle. "Yeah, we won awright," in answer to her question, "Red Rodge and Sloppy had 'em beat from the start. Those other guys can't play ball anyway."
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