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That's the very moral of Joe, all in a bunch on the fence, with a blot to show how purple his nose was," said Gus, holding up the sketch for general criticism and admiration. "I'd rather have a red nose than legs like a grasshopper; so you needn't twit, Daddy," growled Joe, quite unconscious that a blot actually did adorn his nose, as he labored over a brief despatch.
"Then he told what had happened to the professor, and Olivia started on the run for the house. Augustus was goin', too, but Nate held him back. "'Wait a minute, Gus, says he. 'Walk along with me; I want to talk with you. Now, as an older man, your nighest relation, and one that's come to love you like a son yes, sir, like a son I think it's my duty just now to say a word of advice.
Bill had turned to the study of his Morse code, which the boys had taken up and pursued at every opportunity during the building of the radio sets. Gus, however, was less familiar with the dots and dashes. A whisper, as though Gus were afraid the sound of his voice would disturb the electric waves, suddenly switched Bill's attention.
"The Trenors are my best friends I think we should all go a long way to see each other," she said, absorbing herself in the preparation of fresh tea. Her visitor's smile grew increasingly intimate. "Well, I wasn't thinking of Mrs. Trenor at the moment they say Gus doesn't always, you know."
They were delighted with Baby, and Baby thought the kitten was the most wonderful thing he had ever seen. When it was time to feed them, Jack had his own dinner brought in, and ate with them. Gus and Gerd came down and joined him later. "We got the Lurkin kid and her father," Gus said, and then falsettoed: "'Naw, Pop gimme a beatin', and the cops told me to say it was the Fuzzies."
She's a perfect vulture, you know; and she hasn't the least moral sense. She is always getting Gus to speculate for her, and I'm sure she never pays when she loses." Miss Bart could shudder at this state of things without the embarrassment of a personal application. Her own position was surely quite different.
He gave her a fierce, defiant stare, and brazenly growled: "You're off. My name's not Wolff. My name's Brown." "You lie!" she flared back, with a hard anger in her voice. "Your name is Gus Wolff! You get out of this place, and don't you ever come in again! If you do, I'll have you thrown out like a dog."
"So did you, almost, till you started fooling like this." Grim artistically kept the conversation on Todd, and Gus learned how like an ass each individual of the quintette thought him. He smiled gently at Grim's astuteness in paying him out so neatly for his previous friendly remarks about chucking out.
Every judicial jurisdiction ought to have at least one Gus Brannhard to liven things up a little. Race Zarathustran Fuzzy! Then he stopped laughing suddenly and became deadly serious, like an engineer who finds a cataclysmite cartridge lying around primed and connected to a discharger. He reached out to the screen panel and began punching a combination.
"Gus," the latter began, "am I right in assuming that you possess a reasonable amount of influence with that hair-trigger partner of yours, Live Wire Luiz?" Redell nodded. "And is Luiz absolutely trustworthy? Will he stay put and keep his mouth closed?" "He is my partner, Cappy. He's mercurial, but a gentleman. I'd trust him with my life, and I always trust him with my bank roll.
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