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"Ah, here comes Masther Tom!" she exclaimed, presently. "An' right glad I am; for he always brings me a good hansel." "Hello, Missis Barry!" cried he. "How's trade to-day? Too early to tell yet? Well, see if I can't boom it a little. Give me a dozen apples, and one yes, two quarts of nuts."
"How's things?" he demanded, in the stereotyped fashion of men who greet when matters of importance must be discussed between them. "So," responded Buck. The Padre glanced quickly round, and his eyes fell on the log which had provided the other with a seat. "Guess there's no hurry. Let's sit," he said, indicating the log. "I'm a bit saddle weary." Buck nodded.
It seemed as if I was to revenge on mankind the wrong I had suffered from one man; and, more than that, I saw there was money in heaps in it. They said at home that piracy was played out, but I asked myself, 'How's that?
She was sitting on the bridge planks, leaning forward, her arms in her lap, her hat tipped back, a star of white sunlight touching her forehead. She lifted her head when she heard him coming and put her hand over her eyes, as if she were dizzy with watching the water. "How's the ditch?" she called in a voice of sweetest cheer.
"Much obliged," returned Miss Bean, with grim sarcasm; then she added, "How's your Uncle Solomon? I always thought he and Miss Roberts would come round, if I only just put 'em in a way to think of it."
The meeting brought a slight ripple of some undercurrent of feeling to his smooth, dark face that was usually as motionless as a clay mask. "How's my girl?" he asked, holding her close. "Sick of waiting so long for you, dear one," she answered. "My eyes are dim with always gazing into that devil's pincushion through which you come. And I can see into it such a little way, too.
Eliphalet Hopper's eyes were glued to the mild-mannered man who told the story, and his hair rose under his hat. "By the way, Lige, how's that boy, Tato? Somehow after I let you have him on the 'Louisiana', I thought I'd made a mistake to let him run the river. Easter's afraid he'll lose the little religion she taught him." It was the Captain's turn to be grave.
He sprang up to welcome her. "Come in, Mrs. Yare-brough. How do you do?" "Ah'm well, thank ye. How are you?" returned Melissa, in the polite formula of her kind. "Won't you have a cup of coffee?" "No, Ah thank you. How's Mrs. Baron?" "Mrs. Baron? Oh! She was very well the last time I was at Oakwood. She asks fr-requently for you and the baby." "Mrs. Baron's so sweet!
De Jars, on seeing his nephew staggering under this burden, gave a loud laugh, and hurried away. Two minutes later he was once more at the tavern in the rue Saint-Andre-des-Arts. "How's this? Alone?" said Jeannin. "Alone." "What have you done with the chevalier?" "I left him with our charmer, who was unconscious, overcome with grief, exhausted Ha! ha! ha! She fell fainting into his arms!
I study 'em. Hardly ever peg 'em wrong. Fellow said to me one day, 'How's it come, Thomas, you most always call the turn? I give him an answer in one word psycho-ology." The trailers scanned closely the edge of the irrigation ditch. Here, too, they failed to get results. There were tracks enough close to the lateral, but apparently none of them led down into the bed of it.
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