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"Speakin' o' my third wife's half brother," Single broke out, at last. "What kind o' fambly was that?" interrupted the sour puncher. "Thirds, an' halfs, an' things. Sounds more like 'rithmetic than a fambly." "It was harder'n 'rithmetic," Single replied darkly. "Gee, what a fambly!" groaned the other, but Single did not heed him. "An' his name was Sam Sharp," Single went on.
They started the fuss and it ended by one-half bein' yellow and t'other half green such an outrage you never saw and a big fence down the middle of the front yard, and the two families not speakin', and law-suits and land knows what all. They wouldn't even go to the same church nor be buried in the same graveyard. No sir-ee! no two-family house for us if I can help it.
And when she said to you that she couldn't leave you to go to live in that little house that your father left her in his will she wasn't speakin' a lie. She can't go there to live because it ain't hers she don't own it any more.
Seems zif the more big men ken circulate the devil's pisen, the better they like it, and that air in my opinion is one reason why we can't get laws tu shet down the making and selling of the infarnel stuff. Why, keep that air kind of men in office, and figuratively speakin, the fust we know, a pair of the president's breeches will be stuffed inter a broken winder of that air White House.
Harrigan, however, sat without speaking, staring through the gloom. "Well?" said Hovey at length. "You're a silent man, Harrigan." There was no response. "All right; I like a silent man. In a way of speakin', I need 'em like you! If you say little to me, you're likely to say little to others. "I don't talk much myself," went on Hovey, "until I know my man.
Phil Branch had not spoken, as usual, but now he repeated, with rapt, far-off eyes: "'Hurley was hurt in the wrist and Diaz died? Hurley and Diaz! I played with Hurley, a couple of times." "Speakin' personal," said Garry Patterson, his red verging toward purple in excitement, "which I'm ready to go with you down to Morgantown and bury your father." "And do it shipshape," added Black Gandil.
"Oh, my stummick is jest akein' For a little bite of bacon, A slice of bread, a little mug of brew. I'm tired of seein' scenery, Jest lead me to a beanery, Where there's something more than only air to chew." "The last line sounds like a sneeze," said Winthrop, laughing. "Speakin' of sneeze," said Overland, "makes me think you ain't coughed so much lately, Billy."
Is this the Doctor speakin'?... Oh, this is Miss Gwendolyn's nurse, sir.... Yes sir. Well, Miss Gwendolyn's a little nervous to-day, sir. Not sick enough to call you in, sir.... But I was goin' to ask if you couldn't send something soothin'. She's been cryin' like, that's all.... Yes, sir, and wakeful " "A little hysterical yesterday," prompted Thomas, in a low voice.
"'I guess you're mistaken about that, he says, speakin' up jest like lightnin'; 'so long as Stephen Waterman's alive, Rose Wiley can have him, for one; and that everybody's welcome to know. "He spoke right out, loud an' plain, jest as if he was readin' the Declaration of Independence. I expected the boys would everlastin'ly poke fun at him, but they never said a word.
Runnin' up and down, not on four legs meanin' his hands, Missie and now on two. Fair nutty I'd call him." "Poor fellow," murmured Bess. "And is that all that happened?" demanded Walter. "Well, about all, sir. I picked up the cap, and we rowed away. We thought we'd better go dry, sir, in the manner of speakin', instead of facin' that chap. He was fair crazy, sir." "Did he look like a sailor?"
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