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Him an' me are on putty friendly terms, but the fact is," said David, in a semi-confidential tone, "he's about an even combine of pykery an' viniger, an' about as pop'lar in gen'ral 'round here as a skunk in a hen-house; but Mis' Verjoos is putty well liked; an' one o' the girls, Claricy is her name, is a good deal of a fav'rit.
"I don't use tobacco," languidly replied the man, and his answer was so unexpected that Sam precipitately retired. Then Black Tom advanced, and pleasantly asked: "What's yer fav'rit game, stranger?" "Blind man's buff," replied the stranger. "What's that?" inquired Tom, blushing with shame at being compelled to display ignorance about games; "anything like going it blind at poker?" "Poker?
"Who're yer calling worms?" George perceived the need of diplomacy. After all much depended on this child's goodwill. "I was referring to the butler what's his name Keggs." "'E ain't a worm. 'E's a serpint." Albert drew at his cigarette. His brow darkened. "'E does the drawing, Keggs does, and I'd like to know 'ow it is 'e always manages to cop the fav'rit!" Albert chuckled.
In fact, our most universally accepted term for it, pneumonia, is merely the Greek equivalent of the first of these. It is remarkable how many of our disease-enemies appear to have a preference for the lung as a point of attack. In the language of Old Man Means in "The Hoosier Schoolmaster," the lung is "their fav'rit holt."
Yes, ma'am, I don't know much about music myself, but I c'n beat time, an' he's got a stack o' music more'n a mile high, an' one o' the songs he sings 'll jest make the windows rattle. That's my fav'rit," averred Mr. Harum. "Do you remember the name of it?" asked Miss Clara.
"'Where's yer five shillings? 'e says. ''Ere yer are! I says. 'Oh, very well, 'e says. 'But you'll 'ave to draw last, 'e says, 'bein' the youngest. Well, they started drawing the names, and of course Keggs 'as to draw Mr. Byng." "Oh, he drew Mr. Byng, did he?" "Yus. And everyone knew Reggie was the fav'rit. Smiled all over his fat face, the old serpint did!
"Blue is my fav'rit' colour," ses old Sam, in a tender voice. "True blue." Peter Russet began to feel out of it. "I thought brown was," he ses. "Ho!" ses Sam, turning on 'im; "and why?" "I 'ad my reasons," ses Peter, nodding, and shutting 'is mouth very firm. "I thought brown was 'is fav'rit colour too," ses Ginger. "I don't know why. It's no use asking me; because if you did I couldn't tell you."
Two or three mor may be visable inside, settn on the counter or the chestis, indulging in their fav'rit whead, the rich and spisy Pickwhick, the ripe Manilly, or the flagrant and arheumatic Qby. "These Divanns are, as is very well known, the knightly resott of the young Henglish nobillaty.
Joey Grinaldi has been a fav'rit clown in two hemispheres for forty years. Some day I'll show you the medals I got in London and Paris and but never mind now. You start right in this afternoon, doin' just wot I tells you. You'll be all right and them blokes as is 'untin' for you won't be able to twig you from sole leather. Wot say?" "I'll do just as you say," said David simply. "Good!
That's my fav'rit," Mr. Harum repeated, "'cept when him an' Polly sings together, an' if that ain't a show pertic'lerly Polly I don't want a cent. No, ma'am, when him an' Polly gits good an' goin' you can't see 'em fer dust." "I should like to hear them," said Miss Clara, laughing, "and I should particularly like to hear your favorite, the one which ends with the Amen the very large A men."
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