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"At eleven o'clock I am going to begin to write," I announced, firmly, "and, Billy, I want you distinctly to understand that you are not to run your engine in my hall. Do you hear?" "Um huh," said Billy, smiling at me like a cherub. Bee leaned over and wiped the butter off Billy's chin. "Before I go to town to-day I want to talk over that blue silk with you," she said.

But I can assure you I was not the cause of it," Tom said, quietly, and stifling a great desire to laugh. "I wish only to get your husband to help me with his team and I will pay him well." "Huh! what d'ye call well?" she demanded. "A boy like you ain't likely to have much money."

It's terribly heavy for its size." "Eh? Let me see it," he said. She handed it over. He weighed it in his palm, scrutinized it closely, turning it over and over. Then he took out his knife and scratched the rusty surface vigorously for a few minutes. "Huh!" he grunted. "Look at your funny stone." He held it out for her inspection. The blade of his knife had left a dull, yellow scar.

Only two of the things you mentioned have been reported in to this office." "Who, me? Huh! Well, now, John, that's just the run of news that floats in when you're movin' around the country. If I was to set out to get info'mation " "You'd swamp the office. All right. I'll have my clerk draft a letter of application. You can sign it. I'll add my word.

How would it do for you to get somebody to steer, the day of the race?" "That's right," spoke up George quickly. "All the Black Growler needs is a pilot." "That is most certainly true," said John slowly, winking at Grant as he spoke. "Huh," spoke up Fred. "It's a pity there isn't enough gray matter somewhere in this crowd to spell me at the wheel.

"I'm not in the racing game any more," replied Tom coldly. "Besides I only race with my FRIENDS." "Huh! Afraid of getting beat!" sneered Andy. "Well. I guess there's nothing here," said Mr. Whitford to Mr. Foger, as they stood together in the front room. "No, I knew you'd find nothing, and you have had your trouble for your pains." "Oh, Uncle Sam doesn't mind trouble."

No, no," he added, pensively, "it is not good." "Huh? Yes, yes," McTeague answered, his eyes in the air, hardly hearing him. "Do you think the rooms are all right? Let's go in and look at them again." They went down the hall to where the new rooms were situated, and the dentist inspected them for the twentieth time.

The neighbours'll think I've killed you. What d'you mean, anyway!" "I mean I'm tired of watching it, that's what. Sick and tired." "Y'are, huh? Well, young lady, just let me tell you something " He told her.

"Is it as bad as that, Curly?" says he. "Sometimes I feel thataway myself, although along of me being so busy I can stand it better'n you maybe. But what kick have you got? You ain't got nothing to do take it all around, I never seen a foreman that had less," says he. "Huh!" says I. "That's all you know." "Don't I know all there is to know?" he ast me.

"Tell me more," chirped Bobbie. "What about the death chair, Jinnie?" She had nursed the hope that the boy would be satisfied with what she had already told him, but she proceeded in triumphant tones: "Oh, you mean the chair Peg was speaking about, huh? Sure I know all about that.... There isn't anything I don't know about it.... I know more'n all the judges and preachers put together."