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Yet when she shows up in the mornin' she's lookin' sort of smilin' and chirky. "Well," said I, "did you back out after lookin' 'em over?" "Oh, no," says she. "I was tried out with the first lot and engaged right away. They're rushing the production, you see, and I happened to fit in. Why, inside of an hour they had twenty of us rehearsing.
"Voices don't turn gray or change color," says Zenobia. "Yours sounds just as it did well, the last time I heard it." "That August night, eh?" suggests Mr. Ballard, suspendin' operations on the sandwich and leanin' eager across the table. He's a chirky, chipper old scout, with a lot of twinkles left in his blue eyes.
Anyway, she looks good enough to eat. Don't do to tell 'em so, though. "Good morning, Torchy," says she, chirky and sweet. "Wrong on two counts, young lady," says I, ticklin' her ear playful as I passes. "Really?" says she, delayin' her attack on a grapefruit. "Just how?" "It's afternoon, for one item," says I. "And say, why not ditch that juvenile hail? Torchy, Torchy!
An' you might 'play it' as you call it till doomsday, an' 't wouldn't do no good though I'm free ter confess that your playin' of them 'ere other things sounds real pert an' chirky at times; but 't won't do no good here." David stepped forward, bringing his small, anxious face full into the moonlight. "But 't was the money, Perry; I meant about, the money," he explained.
He comes in smilin' and chirky, though, slaps me chummy on the shoulder, and remarks cordial: "Well, my trusty coworker in well doing, I have come to report progress." "Shoot it, then," says I, settlin' back in my chair. "You will be surprised," he goes on, "to learn who is first to benefit by my vicarious philanthropy." "Your which?" says I.
Robert wholly absurd! Come, Verona." And as she sails out I just has time for a glance at Vee, and catches a wink. Believe me, though, a friendly wink from one of them gray eyes is worth waitin' for! She follows Aunty through the door with a handkerchief stuffed in her mouth like she was smotherin' a snicker; so I guess Vee was on. And I'm left feelin' all warmed up and chirky. Mr.
For one thing, time clocks meant no more to Amby than an excursion ad. would to a Sing Sing lifer. Amby wasn't interested in 'em. He'd drift in among the file room or bond clerks, or whatever bunch he happened to be inflicted on that particular month, at any old hour, from 10 A. M. up to 2:30 P. M. Always chirky and chipper about it, too.
Then you'll have a vague idea of how chirky we was at 5:30 A.M. as we stood around in front of that mound we'd torn open, gawpin' first at the heap of loot and then at each other. Simple way to pass the time, eh? But, somehow, we couldn't seem to take it in that we'd actually done the trick. I know I couldn't.
So, when I drop in for my reg'lar Wednesday and Sunday night calls, the main object of the expedition being to swap a little friendly chatter with Vee, and I find Auntie planted prominent and permanent in the sittin'-room, why, I just grins and makes the best of it. A patient and consistent sitter-out, Auntie is. And you know that face of hers ain't exactly the chirky sort.
I waits half an hour and she don't show up, and I'm just about to take a chance on ringin' up Auntie for information, when in she comes, chirky and smilin', with rose leaves sprinkled on both cheeks and her eyes sparklin'. Also she has a bundle of books under one arm. "Why the literature?" says I. "Goin' to read Auntie to sleep?" "There!" says she, poutin' cute. "I wasn't going to let anyone know.
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