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Maxwell's warm-blooded sacrifice to save your father's life? Perhaps it is a bit embarrassing, as you call it, to thank a man for givin' his blood to save your father." "It is a more personal matter than that," replied Virginia, gazing dramatically out of the window. "You don't quite seem to appreciate the delicacy of the situation, Mrs. Burke." "No, I'm blessed if I do.
By nacher I'm a heap moosical; so I ups givin' that genius for harmony expression an' yoonites myse'f with the "Sni-a-bar Silver Cornet Band." Old Hickey is leader, an' he puts me in to play the snare drum, the same bein' the second rung on the ladder of moosical fame, an' one rung above the big drum. Old Hickey su'gests that I start with the snare drum an' work up.
Then I had another modest spell that won't let me ask him whether he'd been put away for givin' rebates, or grabbin' for graft. I knew it must have been somethin' respectable like that. Anyone could see he wa'n't one of your strong arms or till friskers.
"M-m-m-m," says he, shakin' his head. "Ah, come!" says I. "You don't mean that a real sure-fire like you could be shunted that way? There'd be no harm in your givin' a guess, and if it was right well, we could run that birthday stake up five more; couldn't we, Mr. Ellins?" Old Hickory nods, and passes me a five-spot prompt. "Well?" says I, wavin' it careless.
Robert addin' joshin' remarks; and we winds up by givin' the bride and groom three rousin' cheers and peltin' 'em with roses as they makes a run through the double line we forms. Yep, that was some weddin', if I do say it. And the sit-down luncheon I'd ordered at the Country Club in Mr. Robert's name wa'n't any skimpy affair, even though we did spring an extra number on 'em offhand.
"What in the world has happened? Is it goin' up to Brophys' ye are? I hope herself's not sick or anything." "Not at all; but Dan looked in on his way from town, an' says he, 'I've a letther in my pocket that the postmisthress is afther givin' me, an' it's from America, he says, 'but I'm sure I couldn't tell ye who wrote it, says he.
The little gun might get to shootin' by herself, and then somebody would get hurt sure. You see, I'm givin' you all the chance you want to take me without gettin' mussed up. I'm nervous about firearms, anyhow." Deputy Dick Tenlow advanced and secured the gun. "Now," said Overland Red, heaving a sigh; "now, I ain't ashamed to look a gun in the face.
But I says to myself, 'It looks like God had afflicted us by not givin' us anybody to do for. An' then I started out to find some poor an' some sick an' each one o' you knows what I found. An' I ask' myself before I got home that day, 'Why not them an' me? There's lots o' kinds o' things to do on Thanksgivin' Day. Are you ever goin' to forgive me?" I think that we all answered at once.
“To send messages,” replied the operator, amused at the ignorance displayed. “With this little instrument, I can talk with any one at Louisville or Nashville.” “What’s yo-uns givin’ we-uns,” drawled Calhoun. “Do yo’ take we-uns fo’ a fule?” A guard who stood idly by laughed long and loud. “A fine specimen of Southern chivalry,” he chuckled.
For it caused me to arrive just in the nick of time to save two human lives besides givin' the old girl here somethin' to think about and work upon for the next twelvemonth to come whereas, if I had arrived the day before, I would have bin sleepin' in the house, and mayhap have bin burnt alive wi' old Nibsworth and his daughter.
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