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"Just around the corner from MoneyBags," Joe said, straightening. Mo tossed her head. "Look," Joe said. "Pax. I like being your old buddy. Rob's a nice guy, actually." "You can tell?" "Guaranteed. Joe Burke's seal of approval." Mo thought. "She is pretty." "Mmm." Joe never knew what women meant when they discussed looks. "Dynamite kim chee," he said. "Stay in touch, Joe."
But a gray thrush took up the brighter view; otock otock tock! o tuee o o! o tuee oo! o chio chee! o chio chee! sang the thrush, with a decision as well as a melody that seemed to say: "Ah! but I am sure of it; I am sure, I am sure, wake up, joy! joy!" From that moment there was no more craake.
Boogies fell from the heights as he had feared he would. "Aw, chee!" he said sanely. "And s'pose me stepmother gets her lamps on me! Wouldn't she bean me? Sure she would!" "Bind her and gag her," said Jimmie promptly. "What's one weak woman?" "Yah! She's a hellion and you know it." "Listen!" said Jimmie sternly.
There were at least two large masses and many smaller clumps of what could only be animals gathered together. Cattle. But here the girl was plainly in view. Calhoun increased his stride. He began to gain on her. She did not look behind. Murgatroyd said "Chee!" in a complaining tone. "I should have left you behind," agreed Calhoun dourly, "but there was and is a chance I won't get back.
I don't know why. I've been out here wishing I could, because I'm frustrated. But since you aren't asleep maybe you can help me with my job. I've figured some things out. For some others I need facts. Will you give them to me?" She swallowed. "I'll try." "Coffee?" he asked. Murgatroyd popped his head out of his miniature sleeping cabin. "Chee?" he asked interestedly.
Rob-ert of Lin-coln is gayly dressed, Wearing a bright black wedding coat, White are his shoulders and white his crest. Hear him call in his merry note: Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink; Look, what a nice new coat is mine, Sure there was never a bird so fine. Chee, chee, chee. Haw-thorne was one of our greatest writers of stories. He was a pretty boy with golden curls.
"Why er why," says he, "yes, it was a er little vacation, as you say." "Chee!" thinks I. "The nerve of him! Wonder if he sawed the bars, or sneaked out in a packin' case?" But, say, I couldn't put it to him straight. When I gets these bashful fits on I ain't any use. "How long you been in?" says I. "In?" says he. "Oh, I see! About five years." "Honest?" says I.
"O, I don't know," said Chirk, "let's ask him to sing it, then we'll find out." "All right, you do," said Chee. Father Cricky was very glad to sing it, and this was the song he sang: Tree-Top Cantata Moderately fast Swing tree top, swing, This morning bright Swing gold and green In gay sunlight Swing, tree-top, swing.
"We're intimate friends of the bride," says a pair of 'em; "but we've forgotten our tickets." "That's good, but musty. Butt out, please," says I. Chee! but I ain't used up so much politeness since I can remember! It was wearin' them clothes did it, I guess.
Imer stranger here too. I only come down larse Friday to stye with a Naunter mine in Horton. Are you stying in Horton? Willoughby told her he was not in Orton, but at Povey Cross Farm out in the other direction. 'Oh, Mrs. Payne's, ain't it? I've heard aunt speak ovver. She takes summer boarders, don't chee? I egspeck you come from London, heh?
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