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As it rolled clanging into the street, Jimmie began to scream and kicked repeatedly at his father's shins. "Look at deh dirt what yeh done me," he yelled. "Deh ol' woman 'ill be raisin' hell." He retreated to the middle of the street, but the man did not pursue. He staggered toward the door. "I'll club hell outa yeh when I ketch yeh," he shouted, and disappeared.
'Oh, hell. 'Dat's all right, I says, 'but I know what I knows, I says, 'an' it 'ill come out later. You wait an' see, I says, 'you see." "Anybody what had eyes could see dat dere was somethin' wrong wid dat girl. I didn't like her actions." On the street Jimmie met a friend. "What deh hell?" asked the latter. Jimmie explained. "An' I'll t'ump 'im till he can't stand."
"Ah, me poor Mary," sobbed the woman in black. With low, coddling cries, she sank on her knees by the mourner's chair, and put her arms about her. The other women began to groan in different keys. "Yer poor misguided chil' is gone now, Mary, an' let us hope it's fer deh bes'. Yeh'll fergive her now, Mary, won't yehs, dear, all her disobed'ence?
Deh vieni alla finestra! sings Palmy-Leporello; the chorus answers: Deh vieni! Perchè non vieni ancora? pleads Leporello; the chorus shouts: Perchè? Mio amu-u-u-r, sighs Leporello; and Echo cries, amu-u-u-r! All the wooing, be it noticed, is conducted in Italian. But the actors murmur to each other in Davoser Deutsch, 'She won't come, Palmy! It is far too late; she is gone to bed.
"Ah, we blokies kin lick deh hull damn Row," said a child, swaggering. Little Jimmie was striving to stanch the flow of blood from his cut lips. Scowling, he turned upon the speaker. "Ah, where deh hell was yeh when I was doin' all deh fightin?" he demanded. "Youse kids makes me tired." "Ah, go ahn," replied the other argumentatively. Jimmie replied with heavy contempt.
"Then there's this one," she went on, "'Mia piccirella, deh, vieni allo mare! Do you want to hear me sing it like Miss Felixson, together with her dog, which always bursts out howling before she's done? I've heard them three times, and can do the couple of them to a T." "Please don't!" he hurriedly requested.
The mother in the corner upreared her head and shook her tangled locks. "Teh hell wid him and you," she said, glowering at her daughter in the gloom. Her eyes seemed to burn balefully. "Yeh've gone teh deh devil, Mag Johnson, yehs knows yehs have gone teh deh devil. Yer a disgrace teh yer people, damn yeh. An' now, git out an' go ahn wid dat doe-faced jude of yours.
"Whoop!" said the Rum Alley tenement house. The hall filled with interested spectators. "Hi, ol' lady, dat was a dandy!" "T'ree to one on deh red!" "Ah, stop yer damn scrappin'!" The door of the Johnson home opened and Maggie looked out. Jimmie made a supreme cursing effort and hurled his mother into the room. He quickly followed and closed the door.
I see he had a still on an' I didn' wanna giv 'im no stuff, so I says: 'Git deh hell outa here an' don' make no trouble, I says like dat! See? 'Git deh hell outa here an' don' make no trouble'; like dat. 'Git deh hell outa here, I says. See?" Jimmie nodded understandingly. Over his features played an eager desire to state the amount of his valor in a similar crisis, but the narrator proceeded.
While this work was in progress the covering parties were in daily collision with the enemy, and occasional sharp skirmishes occurred. On the 8th August Ayoub opened fire on the citadel from Picquet hill, an elevation north-westward of the city, and a few days later he brought guns into action from the villages of Deh Khoja and Deh Khati on the east and south.
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