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"Better than your company, Saint Giles," replied Sheppard; "so, shut the door, and make yourself scarce." "That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell," observed Sharples. "Or the street," returned Jack: "mind my words, the prison's not built that can keep me." "We'll see that, young hempseed," replied Sharples, shutting the hatch furiously in his face, and locking it.
The old gentleman, who would sooner have parted from his soul than from an acre of his inheritance, refused to sell. "I suppose the boy'll cut up rough now," grumbled the old baronet, who was fond of Jim. "Oh, no, he won't, grandfather," replied his grandson. "He's awfully decent." "We shall see," mumbled the old man; but he had shortly to admit that Billy was right.
She scribbled one word, "Coming," on Bob's note, thrust it into an envelope and addressed it hastily, and then tapped on the wall between the servants' room and her own. Eliza appeared with the swiftness of a Jack-in-the-box, full of suppressed excitement. "Lor! I fought she was never goin'," she breathed. "Got it ready, Miss? The boy'll fink I've gorn an' eloped wiv it."
"Well I see we're all here." He turned proudly about as the group of women came forward, with an air of importance, the Doctor thought, as though the occasion required their presence. "Reckon our boy'll be here all right," Nathan continued. "Our boy!" The Doctor caught a naughty word between his teeth a feat he rarely accomplished. The ladies all looked sweetly interested.
The boy'll be goin' to war pretty soon, you know, and " Babbitt sprang to his feet. His chin trembled so that he could scarcely speak. "Shut up!" he snarled. "Don't let me hear you say that again, Jed Winslow. Who sent him to war? Who filled his head full of rubbish about patriotism, and duty to the country, and all the rest of the rotten Wall Street stuff?
"It's got to come soon," he said, "or the boy'll go mad." At last it came. One day about tea-time they were sitting in Peter's upstairs study. It had been a day of showers and now the curtains were not drawn and a green-grey dusk glimmered beyond the windows.
How long since you saw your mother?" "It's three months." "Does she know you are coming to-day?" "No. I would have wrote to her, but my fingers isn't very ready with the pen." "Nor mine either," said John. "I'd rather take a licking any time than write a letter. Come round and see us some time." "The boy'll lick me," said Andy, laughing. "I guess you can manage him."
He always came nearer to you children, for instance; I mind how you always used to creep away from me close to him at night. He hates noise, Stephen does, and mean, scraping ways, such as we're used to, being poor. My boy'll mind that? We'll keep anything shabby out of his sight, when he comes back." "I'll mind," said Jem, dryly. "But Well, no matter.
A boy'll need so many things." "Girls don't need anything much, I suppose oh, no!" He touched her cheek with gentle fingers. "It's not going to be a girl." "How d'you know?" "I know." So went their talk, over and over, an endless garland of happy conjectures, plans, air castles. Cousin Lorena sent little patterns and thin scraps of material, tiny laces, blue ribbons.
You won't tell me that it is right to bet with bits of boys like that." "The horse he backed with me won." "So much the worse.... The boy'll never do another honest day's work as long as he lives.... When they win, they 'as a drink for luck; when they loses, they 'as a drink to cheer them up." "I'm afraid, Esther, you ought to have married the other chap.
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