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Everybody 'lowed from the start that Hank would of made trash out'n me, even if I hadn't showed all the signs of being trash anyhow. And if they was devilment anywhere about that town they all says, "Danny, he done it." And like as not I has. So I gets to be what you might call an outcast. All the kids whose folks ain't trash, their mothers tells 'em not to run with me no more.
Jabez, I'd rather heerd of er cyclone a hittin' us, fer ye well know that there'll be no peace 'til she packs an' starts fer home." "I know it, I know it," Jabez answered, with feeling. "I got er letter in my pocket, an' I been hatin' ter show it to ye, but mebbe ye might as well read it and make what ye can out'n it." Mrs. Brimblecom wiped her glasses and commenced to read the letter.
Walky halted and scratched his head as he looked from one to another of the expectant group. "Why, ter tell the trewth," he jerked out, "I'm feelin' more like some o' thet thar acid phosphate Massey sells out'n his sody-fountain. Le's go up there." "Jest as yeou say, Walky. You're the doctor," said the freight agent, though somewhat crestfallen, as were the others, at this suggestion.
"Tell Mapleson's pickin' up sence he's got the post-office up in the 'Last Chance'; put that doggery out'n his sullar, had in wall paper now, an' drugs an' seeds, an' nobody was right sure where he got his funds to stock up, so they was some sort of story goin' about a half-breed named Pahusky when I first come here, bein' 'sociated with Mapleson Cam Gentry's same old Cam, squintin' round an' jolly as ever.
"Putty likely-lookin' eggs," says the Dock; 'nd he handed the lines over to Lem, 'nd got out'n the buggy. "How many hev you got?" he asked. "Ten dozen," says the boy. "Git out!" says Dock. "There hain't no ten dozen eggs in that basket!" "Yes, there is," says the boy, "fur I counted 'em myself."
"Den Brer Tarrypin, he up'n say, sezee: "'Well, ef you gwineter sell 'im, Brer Rabbit, sezee, 'sell him some'rs out'n dis naberhood, kase he done bin yer too long now, sezee.
"That's the trouble with you, Red. You ain't got any patience. How does a cat catch a mouse? By sitting down and waiting maybe three hours. And the hungrier she gets, the longer she'll wait and the stiller she'll sit. A man could take a good lesson out'n that." "You always got a pile of fancy words," protested the big man. Sinclair saw Fatty put his hand on the shoulder of his companion.
As Uncle Remus says who has some keen knowledge of animal ways under his story-telling humor "Brer B'ar, he scramble 'bout half-way down de bee tree, en den he turn eve'ything loose en hit de groun' kerbiff! Look like 't wuz nuff ter jolt de life out'n 'im."
"It's wicked to kill most anything 'less ye got some use and a good one, too, for the meat, but it's a durned sight meaner to cut down a tree that took so long to grow and that's been so decent all its life, 'less ye can't do without the stuff ye git out'n it." Joe had listened and had drunk it all in, and his love for the tall giants away back in the deep wilderness had never left him.
I wonder if they is any one that ain't looney sometimes?" Which is a Dago word I got out'n a newspaper and it means: "Who was the dead gent's lady friend?" And we all set and sweat and got the fidgets waiting fur that perfessor to come back. Which he done with that Sister Estelle grin onto his face and a pill box in his hand. They was two pills in the box.
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