United States or Niger ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Buttinski I call her, and she lives up to the name. She's a dumpy built blond party, Mrs. Proctor Butt, with projectin' front teeth, bulgy blue eyes and a hurried, trottin' walk like a duck makin' for a pond. Her chief aim in life seems to be to be better posted on your affairs than you are yourself, and, of course, that keeps her reasonably busy. Also she's a lady gusher from Gushville.
Pardiggle wrote a letter of introduction to my guardian in behalf of her eloquent friend Mr. Gusher. With Mr. Gusher appeared Mr. Quale again. Mr. Gusher, being a flabby gentleman with a moist surface and eyes so much too small for his moon of a face that they seemed to have been originally made for somebody else, was not at first sight prepossessing; yet he was scarcely seated before Mr.
Deston thought for a moment. "Found a big new field, didn't they? In South America somewhere?" "Just the biggest on Earth, is all. And not only on Earth. He operates in all the systems for a hundred parsecs around, and he never sinks a dry hole. Every well he drills is a gusher that blows the rig clear up into the stratosphere. Everybody wonders how he does it.
The rough, mostly unpainted, wooden houses, shops, and hotels composing Lucky Star City were so near the great oil gusher which accounted for the town's existence that the front rank of frame buildings was peppered all over with a jetty spray. This disfigurement had come when the gusher was at its highest, and its black, blowing spume had been borne by the wind for long distances.
Gusher would shine brilliantly in a ball room, and so would Mattie, and if the young people could be reconciled in that way, why it would be money well spent. Mrs. Topman was delighted at the prospect, and so was Gusher. And both had been going about among their friends for a week sounding the trumpet of Mrs.
The production guesses ranged all the way from ten to fifty thousand barrels a day, most of which was still going to waste on the desert. For Burns and Hart had not yet gained control over the flow, though an army of men in overalls and slickers fought the gusher night and day. The flow never ceased for a moment.
The boatmen found these men in a room at the farm-house, seated around a table on which stood a bucket half filled with what appeared to be ugly black sand. Just as they entered Mr. Gusher rose from his seat and exclaimed: "Greatest discovery what was ever made. There is nothing like it in history. I tell you it is a great thing, gen-tle-men!"
"Well, what about it?" demanded Badger sharply. "Are you dissatisfied with your twenty per cent?" "Oh, no!" stammered the old lady. "Not at all! I just thought if I could only get the note paid off at the Mustardseed Bank I might ask you to sell the collateral and invest the proceeds in your gusher." "Oh!" Mr. Badger beamed with pleasure.
It throws open doors of dark caves in deserts, and gives up enchanted gardens full of jewelled fruit and flowers. Then rub the smoky old lamp again and you get a spout of oil another gift, which makes you feel as if a genie'd chucked it to you. Look at my gusher, for instance! Just think, Mrs.
Gusher introduced Topman, his partner, and gave him a short account of the business she was on. "Why, my dear, good lady!" said Topman, grasping her hand with a freedom indicating that they had been old friends. "Your husband and me why, we were old friends. If there is any man in the world I respect and admire, that man is Captain Price Bottom.
Word Of The Day