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"Fiddlestick!" said 'Beida with a sigh of relief. "Now I know you're gassin'. . . . Just now you frightened me with your talk of executions, which is what they do to a man when he's murdered some person: and o' course if Nicky if Mr Nanjivell had been doin' anything o' that sort which he hasn', o' course. . . . But when you go on pretendin' as Rat-it-all can lock me up, why then I see your game.

You needn' clucky down an' hide an' after breakin' Mr Nanjivell's windows, that hasn' sixpence between hisself an' heaven, to pay a glazier!" "Proper young limbs you be," the voice went on. "With no father at home to warm 'ee!"

Now, the chalice with the stone was taken from this loculus; and is it possible not to believe that some knight, to whom it had been presented by one of Saladin's men, had in turn presented it to the monastery, first scratching uncouthly on its surface the name of Hasn to mark its semi-sacred origin, or perhaps bidding the monks to do so?

What's more, tide'll be runnin' for two hour yet; an' it hasn' reached my ears that the fashion of thankin' the Lord for His bounty have a-perished out o' this old-fangled race of men an' women; though no doubt, my dear, you'd get first news o' the change, with a bed-room window facin' on Ruan Cove."

I think he's got religion, Doctor; but he a'n't so bright about what's goin' on, 'n' I don' believe he never suspec' nothin' till somethin' happens; for the' 's somethin' goin' to happen, Doctor, if the Las' Day doesn' come to stop it; 'n' you mus' tell us what to do, 'n' save my poor Elsie, my baby that the Lord hasn' took care of like all his other childer."

The tale of the blue-stocking Tawaddud is followed by a number of storyettes, some of which are among the sweetest in the Nights. "The Blacksmith who could handle Fire without Hurt," "The Moslem Champion," with its beautiful thoughts on prayer, and "Abu Hasn and the Leper" are all of them fragrant as musk.

"'N you've killed paddidges befo' the law was off." "Who hasn'?" "If she knows all those things she sho' cain' think yo' a plumb angel." "Ah don' s'pose she's lookin' fo' wings. All the same, Ah do hate to have her know Ah'm about to do this." "Oh, this is all right. She don' know yo' in debt an' need the money." "No, she don'." "Would that worry her?" "Ah reckon hit would, specially if "

B'sides, las' time, I drank to Arlt the composer. This time, it's to Arlt the accompanist. He hasn' any business to play a double rôle, if he can' stan' the double applause. To the success of Mr. Otto Arlt!" Thayer raised his glass and set it down again, untasted. As he glanced across at Arlt with an explanatory smile, he caught the eyes of Beatrix fixed upon him imploringly.

"Bad night, Jawn," said Mr. Dooley. "It is that," said Mr. McKenna. "Blowin' an' storming', yes," said Mr. Dooley. "There hasn' been a can in tonight but wan, an' that was a pop bottle. Is the snow-ploughs out, I dinnaw?" "They are," said Mr. McKenna. "I suppose Doherty is dhrivin'," said Mr. Dooley. "He's a good dhriver. They do say he do be wan iv the best dhrivers on th' road.

"Maybe he'll go out this evenin'. His other boy give him the slip, and he hasn' got a new one yet." A stone's throw from Centre street stands a tall tenement-house, sheltering anywhere from forty to fifty families in squalid wretchedness.