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"That's a good letter," said Jenny. "To be sure it is," said I. "And shall you answer it, papa?" "In the very next 'Atlantic, you may be sure I shall. The class that do their own work are the strongest, the most numerous, and, taking one thing with another, quite as well cultivated a class as any other.
Why any one so small should want to live so high up in the world I don't know, any more than I know why any one wants to live anywhere but in the Old Orchard." "Somehow I don't remember just what Warble looks like," Peter confessed. "He looks a lot like his cousin, Redeye," replied Jenny. "His coat is a little duller olive-green and underneath he is a little bit yellowish instead of being white.
He had cut off the top of an egg which was now rapidly cooling, and a milky surface resembling thin ice was forming on the contents of his coffee-cup. And meanwhile he read. The column he was reading described the wedding of his uncle with Miss Jenny Launton, and journalese surpassed itself.
Oh, horrid fellow, did ever any one run so fast. Ah, it is of no use, dear, dear Jenny; one more effort." "Mother, Mother," said Oscar, "cannot I shoot him?" "No, dear boy," said Schillie, "you cannot without hurting Jenny." "But let me try, do let me try. Oh dear, oh dear, it is too late, he has hold of her." Throwing away his gun, the boy swung down by the rope before we could prevent him.
I did not argue with them; it was enough that Jenny swiftly awakened to even a bitterer hatred and a deeper fury of resentment than myself. They had roused the sleeping tempest and our lightning now became only a question of time. Was I the man to make carrion of myself in national quarrels!
"The Museum and Jenny Lind man," he replied. The compliment and the shave both having been intended for me, I was of course mollified, and replied, "You are mistaken, my friend, I am Barnum." "Coachee" was thunderstruck, and offered all sorts of apologies. "A friend at the other depot told me that I had Mr. Barnum on board," said he, "and I really supposed he meant the other man.
Jenny, hast thou lost thy head? Here be two shoes not a pair thou hast given me; and what art thou holding out the pomade for? I don't wash in pomade." Jenny, who was far more flurried and frightened than her mistress, confusedly apologised as she exchanged the pomade for the soap. "But Oh dear! madam, will they take you?" she asked. "Maybe not, child," said Mrs Jane, quite coolly. "Very like not.
It grew that Ian was telling stories of cities of London and of Paris, for he had been there, and of Rome, for he had been there. He had seen kings and queens, he had seen the Pope "Lord save us!" ejaculated Jenny Barrow. He leaned against the dairy wall and the sun fell over him, and he looked something finer and more golden than often came that way.
Are not you glad to see me, or be you too dumbfounded to get out a word, like good old Jenny?" stroking the donkey's cars. "Posies of primroses! How sweet they be! You must spare me one." "As many as you will, sweetheart. They be all for you, whether given or sold. And you've got a holiday for Lady-day." "Have a care! I got my ears boxed for such a Popish word.
Jenny Geddes trode over me with such cautious reverence, that matters were not so bad as might well have been expected; so I came off with a few cuts and bruises, and a thorough resolution to be a pattern of sobriety for the future. I have yet fixed on nothing with respect to the serious business of life. I am, just as usual, a rhyming, mason-making, raking, aimless, idle fellow.
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