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'I'm anxious f'r to ind this hor'ble war, he says, 'which has cost me manny a sleepy night, he says; 'but 'twud be a crime f'r to sind a sojer onprepared to battle, he says. 'Wait f'r th' pijammas, he says. 'Thin on to war, he says; 'an' let ye'er watchword be, "Raymimber ye'er manners," he says. "'They'se a man out here, says th' privit sicrity, 'that wants to see ye, he says.
He could not give notice and seek another job. Mrs. Thropp's first problem was the proper style and title of her son-in-law. "What am I goin' to call you, anyhow?" she said. "Jim sounds kind of familiar on short acquaintance, and James is sort of distant. Son-in-law is hor'ble, and Son is How would you like it if I was to call you 'Son'? What does your own mother call you?"
The papers would "make more in the long run," he was sure, if they published an "Extra" only when something of real importance happened. "Extry! All about the hor'ble AX'nt! Extry!" a boy squawked under his nose, as he descended from the car. "Go on away!" said Sheridan, gruffly, though he smiled. He liked to see the youngsters working so noisily to get on in the world.
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