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She was creeping now, and during the long hours when the grown folks were working and the older children at school, she had to stay in a chair with a gate across the front which her father had fixed out of an old kitchen armchair. Grandma cushioned it with rags, but it grew hard and tiresome, and sometimes Jimmie could not keep her contented there.
It's the fact that he trusted me implicitly, and I well, I played the fool, or I'd never have got into a mess like this." For an instant Jimmie Dale looked at the other searchingly, and then, smiling strangely, he shook his head. "There's a better way than that, Burton," he said quietly. "I think, as I said before, you've had a lesson to-night that will last you all your life.
Anyway, Uncle Sam wants me to look it up." "What's he got to do with it?" asked Frank. "Something connected with the sub-treasury," laughed Ned. "That is all I can say to you about it." "And how you goin' to get it?" demanded Jimmie. "By working with a submarine," was the reply. "Down in the bottom of the sea!" sang Frank. "Well," Ned said, presently, "figure the thing out for yourselves.
Allendyce stopped short, for his usual measured words seemed out of place at this moment. "I am Cornelius Allendyce," he finished humbly and guiltily. "I came back to explain." James Forsyth made a lightning-quick movement as though he would spring at the little lawyer's throat. Mr. Tony held him back. "Jimmie wait. Let him talk." "It was Miss Robin's wish to slip away without telling you.
Her nose was pushed out a trifle, as if scenting supper in the dangling horror. "The mate is here, all right," Peter said, in a whisper. "We're between the two of them. What is the first one doing?" "Coming on," whispered Jimmie, "and I've got only three shots in my gun." "That's all you will have time to use if you miss the first one," Peter said. "That's right," Jimmie returned.
That had been two weeks ago or three. And the net result had been nothing! Jimmie Dale allowed the evening newspaper to slip from his fingers. It dropped to the arm of his lounging chair, and from there to the floor. It was no use.
"I was in an electric cab not long ago," I said, "and a bicyclist rode daringly in front of us. In crossing the trolley-tracks, his bicycle naturally slackened a little, and my careful chauffeur brought the machine to a dead stop. Result that I was pitched out over the dashboard and barely saved myself from landing on my head. I never did get on very well with cab-drivers." Jimmie laughed.
Many pictures, developed and printed with great care, had also been torn or burned. "Well," Jimmie declared, "they didn't get their hands on the films in my baby camera. I've got a few good ones left." "Now, Jack," Ned said, "suppose you connect with Uncle Ike and make for the nearest telegraph office? Don't break your neck, and the neck of the mule, but get there as soon as you can.
Why that kittie joined Jimmie's baseball nine, and to-morrow night I'll tell you about a game of ball that was played. That is if the man in the moon doesn't tumble down and hurt his nose. One day Jimmie Wibblewobble was going over to where Bully, the frog, lived. "Come on!" cried the little boy duck, to the frog. "Let's get up a ball game.
Five minutes, perhaps a little more, went by and then the inner door was open, and the flashlight's ray was flooding the interior of the safe. A queer little sound, half of astonishment, half of disappointment, issued from Jimmie Dale's lips.
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