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She'd been pretty active about th' childher while he was pickin' up more iddycation in th' way iv business thin she'd iver dhream iv knowin'. She had th' latest news about th' throuble in th' Methodist Church, but he had a private wire into his office.
It's just th' Greaser fashion all over t' spend a hundred years or so in makin' a path five miles long around a hill about as high as th' Boston State-house, so's they can get up it easy an' save their wind. But I wish they'd put in drinkin' fountains along th' road.
"Wot would they want to be settin' in th' sun for?" demanded Galton brusquely. "'Ow do I know? If they was Eth'opians, wouldn't they set in th' sun?" "This is as clost as we'll ever git," surmised another voice. "The night breeze'll blow 'er back where she come from." "Well, w'ere's that?" demanded Mulcher savagely.
Forbes drew the key aside and laid it evenly against the one Crawford had left in his keeping. "By George!" "What's th' matter?" "He's come back!" in a whisper. "You're a keen one! Ye-up; Crawford's valet Mason is visiting in town." There are many threads and many knots in a net; these can not be thrown together haphazard, lest the big fish slip through.
'An' if be chance ye shud pick up a little land be th' way, don't lave e'er a Frinchman or Rooshan take it fr'm ye, or ye'll feel me specyal delivery hand on th' back iv ye'er neck in a way that'll do ye no kind iv good. Hock German Michael, he says, 'hock me gran'father, hoch th' penny postage fist, he says, 'hock mesilf, he says.
'Instead iv chroniclin' th' ruffyanism iv these misguided wretches that weigh in at th' ringside at 125 poun's, an' I see in a pa-aper I r-read in a barber shop th' other day that Spike's gone away back what's that I'm sayin'? Niver mind. D'ye go down to th' home iv th' Rivrind Aloysius Augustus Morninbinch an'interview him on th' question iv man's co-operation with grace in conversion.
Not as I knawed much about it, for I fell on th' back of my head, an' was knocked stupid like. An' when I come to mysen it were mornin', an' I were lyin' on the settle i' Jesse Roantree's houseplace, an' 'Liza Roantree was settin' sewin', I ached all ovver, and my mouth were like a lime-kiln.
"No visitors are allowed," said the aunt, glancing down at her novel rather impatiently. "Ah! but you wouldn't count us visitors," said Gerald in his best manner. "We re friends of Mabel's. Our father's Colonel of the th." "Indeed!" said the aunt. "And our aunt's Lady Sandling, so you can be sure we wouldn't hurt anything on the estate." "I'm sure you wouldn't hurt a fly," said the aunt absently.
I don't like to wish nobody no harm, byes, but I hope Bully Nathan's first chop 'll choke him, fer th' way he done me over the beef! . . . Scorch 'im!" In the forenoon we dropped the gig and put out for practice.
What 'y' been dreamin' abaout? Y' giv a jump like a hoppergrass. Wake up, wake up! Th' party's over, and y' been asleep all the mornin'. The party's over, I tell ye! Wake up!" "Over!" said Mrs. Sprowle, who began to define her position at last, "over! I should think 'twas time 'twas over! It's lasted a hundud year.
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