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"You are!" exclaimed Miss Port. "Well, I've got somethin' by comin' here, anyway." Stowing away this bit of information in regard to the captain's resources in her mind for future consideration, she continued: "I don't think much of that niece of your'n. Has she never lived anywhere where the people had good manners?"
But I'll bet we know somethin' soon, fer Gene's hoss is comin' faster as he nears the ranch." The wide hollow sloping up into the foothills lay open to unobstructed view, and less than half a mile distant Madeline saw the riderless horse coming along the white trail at a rapid canter.
"What have you seen?" he inquired, not regarding the exclamation of surprise of the new comers, at the unexpected sight before them. "We've seen nothin' its so dark," answered Green, "but unless the cattle have got into the garden, there's somethin' else movin' there.
He won't sail, he can't swim, he won't fish; but he's hankerin' to shoot somethin', havin' been brought up in a place where if you don't shoot some of the neighbors every day or so folks think you're stuck up and dissociable. Then somebody tells him it's the duckin' season down to Setuckit P'int, and he says he'll spend his day off, while the boss is away, massycreein' the coots there.
As I did so, the helmsman, with his eye on the weather leach of the main-topgallant-sail, said: "Don't look at me, or take any notice of me, sir, because I don't want them skowbanks for'ard to see me a-talkin' to you; but I've got somethin' very partic'lar as I should like to s'y, if I can only find a chaunce." "Well, fire away then, my lad," said I. "No time like the present.
They put chalk in it, I think; any way, you can see somethin' white in the bottom." "So you have to trade at the store, too!" "I thought ye said ye'd worked in coal-mines," put in Old Rafferty, who had been a silent listener. "So I have," said Hal. "But it wasn't quite that bad." "Sure," said Mrs. Rafferty, "I'd like to know where 'twas then in this country.
I wanted to tell your mon somethin' aboot t' Maister." "We've no time to listen to gossip, my boy. We know all about the Master." "But thou doan't, sir. Nobody knows but me and mother, and we thought as we'd like thy mon to know, sir, for we want him to fair bray him." "Oh, you want the Master fair brayed, do you? So do we. Well, what have you to say?" "Is this your mon, sir?"
McGuire lifted a bony hand to her face and tucked a flying wisp of hair behind her right ear. "Then if he saw it comin', why couldn't he do somethin' to stop it?" she demanded. "I don't know. But he couldn't. Dr. Chandler said he couldn't. An' they had a man up from Boston one of them eye socialists what doesn't doctor anythin' but eyes an' he said he couldn't."
"'I took the path down to the beach, thinking to wade the narrow run at Eel Pond, and so save a mile or two of road. It was light as day, and I went along well enough, though I felt sad-like, an' as if somethin' were about to happen me.
Mike put it in the club yes'day." The burial-club, Mrs. Sprowl meant, and Harriet evidently understood the allusion. "Have you walked?" went on the woman, doubling up her paper, and then throwing it aside. "Dessay you could do with somethin' to take the cold orff yer chest. Liz," she called out to some one behind the bar, with which the parlour communicated by an open door; "two Irish!"
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