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He worries and fusses; he "nags," as we used to say at school; and, when mother and I are quite worn out, his triumph is assured. Mother is usually worn out more easily than I, and she ends by siding with father; so that, at last, when they combine their forces against poor little me, I have to succumb.
There can be no dignity about a man or a woman who fumes, and frets, and fusses, and is full of freaks and caprices. Dignity of manners is always associated with repose. Mrs. Flutter Budget always enters a drawing-room as if she were a loaded doll, tossed in by the usher, and goes dodging and tipping about to get her centre of gravity, without getting it.
"I'll bet that makes him mad, but maybe next time he won't blame me for his old fusses. He said I could have those raspberries." She dipped the brush into the paint once more, made a few little red spots below the printed letters, and labelled them raspberries for fear they might not otherwise be recognized.
Jack Bonavita, who fusses about his lions at all hours of the day and night, solved that mystery and incidentally saved his pet cat, Tramp, from an untimely ending. Tramp has been with Jack for years and appreciates the folly of venturing within reach of the animals in the cages, but Bonavita came across him in front of Mephisto's cage in the middle of the night.
Spunyarn shakes his head reprovingly, fusses over Tom, turns him over on his wales, as he has it, and finally gets him on his beam's ends, a besotted wreck unable to carry his canvas. "Lost yeer reckoning eh, Tom?" he continues as that bewildered individual stares vacantly at him.
Stanton informed her brother, "this gown has served me all evening during the political rally that somebody tried to pass off as a reception. Probably it will do very well for the mob-affair. I'll go for my furs." "That's a brick!" was her brother's indorsement. "She needs us both. But don't be frightened, sis! It's only a political flurry, and such fusses are usually more fizz than fight.
"Anyway, look at all the fusses in history," she added, carelessly, "of GRANDE PASSIONS, and murders, and elopements, and the fate of nations resting on just the fact that a man and woman hated each other too much, or loved each other too much! There must be something in it that I don't understand.
"I'll do as I please," Elsie had furiously retorted, and flung herself out of Marian's room. Not at all alarmed by her cousin's anger, Marian had confidently remarked to Maizie: "Elsie doesn't dare go back on us. She'll do as I tell her. She always fusses a lot, then gives in. She has no more time for those three prigs than we have." For once she was mistaken.
And I have enough understanding to realize that if you want to make a row you must absolutely have something definite to make a fuss about, otherwise it won't work. But that about the wooden horse isn't good enough!" "That's just the point about lots of fusses," Morten replied. Pelle pondered further over all this while at work.
Hawthorne ought to have lived in an orange grove in Florida.... You have no idea how small you all look, you folks in the world, from this distance. All your fusses and your fumings, your red-hot hurrying newspapers, your clamor of rival magazines, why, we see it as we see steamboats fifteen miles off, a mere speck and smoke." Again she writes: "You ought to see us riding out in our mule-cart.
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