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And his political wisdom is as sound for to-day as for when he uttered it; although, for the life of me, I cannot help disregarding his admonition to keep hands out of foreign pie, this time. I want the country to go to the rescue of Cuba, and I'll turn over every stone I can to that end." Betty had listened to him with much interest. "Would Washington have gone?" she asked.
Of these works of art, some, framed and not glazed, had holes in them; the varnish of others had become so brown and cracked, that they looked like overdone pie- crust; the designs of others were almost obliterated by the flies of many summers.
"Four hundred and twenty might be baked in that pie," she laughed. Then a subtle change began to creep over the world. The sun peered over the mountains inquiringly, a timid young thing, as if she were asking what degree of light and warmth they would like for the day.
When I reflect that this was a type of the hotel clerk throughout the United States, that behind unnumbered registers at this moment he is snubbing travellers into the dust, and that they are suffering and perpetuating him, I am lost in wonder at the national meekness. Not that I am one to refuse the humble pie his jeweled fingers offer me.
No, no I'm not exactly reconciled, as it is; and if I were to be drinking champagne, and 'ating French kickshaws with the Russian nobility for three or four months, dancing perhaps with princesses, and whispering in the ears of duchesses, wouldn't my nose turn up with contempt at the beefsteak pie, and poor Mrs McShane, with all her kind smiles, look twice as corpulent as ever?
And I'm getting old and prosy, Peter, and if I pretend to be skittish now and then it's only to mask the fact that I'm on the shelf, that I've eaten my pie and that before long I'll be dyeing my hair every other Sunday, the same as Struthers, and " "Rot!" interrupted Peter. "All rot!" "Why rot?" I demanded. "Because to me you're the embodiment of undying youth," asserted the troubadour beside me.
"Were you expecting more?" "Wasn't expecting anything," the man retorted. "It's a nice day for a swim, so I thought I'd come sell refreshments to the swimmers." "They're afraid of ghost fish," Rick said. "The place is haunted." The man grinned. "I heard about the ghost. If he shows up I'll sell him a cream pie." "Sell me one," Rick invited, and Scotty echoed the thought. "Pleasure."
That he might lose no time by indecision, he selected a large pie upon which to pounce instantaneously. But after he had watched for some minutes, it did not seem at all likely the chance would arrive before suppertime, and he was just about to turn away and rejoin Lina, when he saw that there was not a person in the place. Curdie never made up his mind and then hesitated.
The bishops, however, could not be intimidated. Besides, as they could not be displaced, they were not so easily reached. Mgr. Pie, the eminent Bishop of Poitiers, ascended the pulpit the Sunday after the battle. “My brethren,” said he, “you all expected of me that I would speak to-day in my cathedral.
"Worse!" declared Miss Major. "We don't have pie or pudding now ever!" put in Miss Crilly eagerly. "And we can't talk at table, only just to ask for things!" "Oh, my!" cried Mrs. Tenney. "What does possess her!" "Seven devils, I guess!" laughed Miss Crilly. "Better put it seven hundred and seven!" flashed Polly. They laughed, and the talk went on. Miss Sterling watched the hostess.
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