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Did they find p'ison in 'em?" Sir Percevall did not reply. His attention had been caught by the arrival of a strangely dressed woman, apparently attended by six maids of honor. Turning to a gentleman at his elbow: "Can you tell me, sir," he said, "who is yonder stranger in outlandish apparel?"
As Parson Bradley said when he was talkin' to a Sunday-school during a presidential campaign: 'One of you boys perhaps can be a George Washington and another may rise to be a Thomas Jefferson; any of you, the Lord knows, can be a James K. Polk!" "I don't know much about Polk," said Gilbert. "P'raps nobody did very much, but the parson hated him like p'ison. See here, Peter, I ain't made o' paste!
P'ison flag grew here, too, the sturdy, delicate iris that made the swamp so gay. Ann stayed a moment for breath. Haste had driven the blood to her face, and the cool spring air seemed to generate in her the heat of summer.
A fine Nodhead apple tree shaded the side windows, and underneath it reposed all summer a bright blue sleigh, for Uncle Bart always described himself as being "plagued for shed room" and kept things as he liked at the shop, having a "p'ison neat" wife who did exactly the opposite at his house.
Who ever seed him a' buying of red herrings and p'ison?" "Hold your jaw," said Goarly, familiarly. "Let 'em prove it. I don't know who you are, sir; but let 'em prove it" "My name, Mr. Goarly, is Elias Gotobed. I am an American citizen, and Senator for the State of Mickewa." Mr. and Mrs. Goarly shook their heads at every separate item of information tendered to them.
"Not a darned cent," the man answered. "I hate like p'ison to turn a feller away in the night, but we're awful skeered here with children in the house. Good-by. You can't miss the barn. It's close ag'in' the road."
You better brace up, he says, 'or folks'll be callin' you a faded flower. 'Well, says I, 'I may be faded, but there's one old p'ison ivy around here that's fresh enough to make up. Oh, I squashed HIM all righty, but I never took no comfort out of doin' it. I ain't took no comfort for the last two, three days. But now Whew!" The letter to Cousin Gussie was written that very afternoon. Mr.
"There are no good grudges." "There are some honest ones honestly come by." "I don't care how they are come by. Grudges 'is p'ison." She laughed, but her cheeks were hot. "Do you know that Christine has been at death's door? Your mother heard of it through Mrs. Bowen! Was that why you didn't show me her letter?" "It was not in my letter from Mrs. Bowen."
But Ruth and Wonota were sober, and even Uncle Jabez Potter saw something to take note of in the threat of the proprietor of the Wild West Show. "That man is a coward. That's as plain as the nose on your face. And a coward when he gits mad and threatens you is more to be feared than a really brave man. That man's a coward. He's mean. He's p'ison mean! You want to look out for him, Niece Ruth.
For heaven's sake, have you et any of it?" The appearance of the dish testified only too plainly that she and Wesley had dined. "You're p'isoned!" shrieked Miss Pray: "be you prepared, Belle O'Neill? Fat pig! He was prob'bly bloated with p'ison! Oh, dear! oh, mercy! you're prob'bly dyin' this very minit." Belle O'Neill began to howl, Wesley to weep dismally with low moans, his fists in his eyes.
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