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She had at the time called it a sermon, with a text, and laughed at the child who preached it. She was not laughing now. "Lissen, Cappen Sojer, an' I'll teach you a p'omise. A p'omise a p'omise why, when anybody p'omises, they do it!" Queer how plainly she could hear Little Silly say that and could see him sitting in the sun!
"Dat Buck two devils," was Francois's rejoinder. "All de tam I watch dat Buck I know for sure. Lissen: some dam fine day heem get mad lak hell an' den heem chew dat Spitz all up an' spit heem out on de snow. Sure. I know." From then on it was war between them. Spitz, as lead-dog and acknowledged master of the team, felt his supremacy threatened by this strange Southland dog.
That her mother had once perhaps had some such idea of her father did not occur to her. "Lissen, dear, did I wake you up?" said Mrs. Wallace Bannister, coming quietly into the sitting room that connected her bedroom with that of Mrs. Jesse Cluett, in the early hours of an August morning. "No o! This feller wakes me up," Mrs. Cluett said, yawning and pale, but cheerful.
"Lissen here"—Anse rode so close their spurs were near to hitting—"you sure you got hold of th’ right end of th’ runnin’ iron now?" "What do you mean?" "Well, ’bout Shannon. You heard what Fenner said—Rennie’s like a pa to him. An’ maybe ..." His voice died away. "And maybe that’s that? He has my place, and it’s really his now?" Drew asked bleakly. "Could be."
And these guys what stored their stuff here in the boot-leggin' days never got into the house." "The boy got through, didn't he?" Val knew that voice, the Boss of the swamp meeting. "Well, if he did, we can." "Lissen, Boss, it's a secret, ain't it? An' we gotta know how it works before we can work it. An' lissen here, you swamp bum, you keep outta my way see?
She had a way o' grabbin' me by de years an' shovin' my haid twixt her knees whilst she wuk on me sumpin' awful. No wonder I was scairt o' dese frammin's. I reckon dat was de cause o' me goin' t' sea. Ah mas' tell you 'bout dat. "One day my mammy gimme fifteen cents an' say 'Go down to de market and fetch me some fish. Ah' lissen don't you let no grass grew unda yo' feet.
"Dat bein' de case, I reckin I'll tek dat white Frank mule," said Red Hoss. "'Tain't no use of him standin' in de stall eatin' his ole fool haid off jes' 'cause Tom Montjoy is laid up." "Boy," said Bill Tilghman, "lissen!
I see them plodding light-heartedly through the mud as they did on that gray September day, their faces wet with the rain, "an' a bloke standin' by the side of the road would think they was a-go'n' to a Sunday-school picnic." The sergeant was in a talkative mood. "Lissen to them guns barkin'! We're in for it this time, straight!" Then, turning to the men behind,
"'Who dat callin' Mingo way out yer? "I lissen en I lissen, but nobody ain't callin'. I year de water sneakin' 'long under de bank, en I year de win' squeezin' en shufflin' 'long thoo de trees, en I year de squinch-owl shiver'n' like he cole, but I ain't year no callin'. Dis make me feel sorter jubous like, but I lay down en wrop up my head.
I was a little boy and I climed up on the porch bannisters and sat there and lissen' to that music." "I remember another big man come here once when I was a boy and I served the transient trade at a little eatin' place right where the Atkin Ho-tel is now. Jeff Davis come there to eat, when he stopped over between trains. That was in 1869. No, I disremember what he eat or how he behave.
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