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In the British section there wuz one picter that struck such a deep blow onto my heart that its strings hain't got over vibratin' still. They send back some of them deep, thrillin' echoes every time I think on't in the day-time or wake up in the night and think on't. It wuz "Love and Death," and wuz painted by Mr. Watts, of London.
But I felt that she needed me to stand by, that I could be of some use. That was thrillin' and wonderful enough for me. And as I folded her in gentle and let her turn the sprinkler on a brand-new plaid silk scarf that I'd just put up a dollar for, I set my jaw firm and says to myself, "Torchy, here's where you quit the youths' department for good.
So I'm prepared for something tragic and thrillin'. But all I can see is an old slate-roofed house, one of these weather-beaten, dormer-windowed relics of the time when that part of town was still in the suburbs. There's quite a big yard in the back, with a few scrubby old pear trees, a double row of mangy box-bushes, and other traces of what must have been a garden.
Texas ain't got no call to wake up so malignant over what's most likely nothin' worse than humor on Tutt's part; an', Tutt, it ain't up to you none neither, to go spurrin' Texas in the shoulder in the midst of what I'm yere to maintain is a mighty thrillin' narration. "'Texas is good people, says Dave, 'an' the last gent with which I thirsts to dig up the war-axe.
It wuz indeed thrillin', but after a minute's silence she went on: "Look at me!" sez she, pintin' that same forefinger first at herself and then at the tall veiled figger of the young girl beside her "Look at us; we, the people, represent to you another of your favorite reforms, the Canteen, that product of civilization and Christianity you transplanted from our holy shores to the benighted tropics.
But, between you and me, this slicin' and sortin' envelopes ain't such thrillin' work; mostly routine stuff reports of department heads, daily statements from brokers, and so on. Now and then, though, you run across something rich. This was one of the times. I was 'most through the pile when I comes to this pale pink affair with a heavy wax seal on the back. Perfumed, too, like lilacs.
They were obliged to rethreat in disordher. But our special corryspondint was able f'r to obtain a fine view of th' thrillin' scene that followed. First came th' coort, weepin'. They was followed be th' gin'rals in th' Fr-rinch ar-rmy, stalwart, fearless men, with coarse, disagreeable faces.
I went out 'fore sunrise, when the blue mist was hangin' round the mountain tops an' in among the trees. It was like a fairy dream. I listened t' th' orchestra of the birds the woodthrush, the veery, the scarlet tanager an' the rest of the thrillin' songsters and the music was more delicious 'n any opera I've heard in London an' Paris.
"Well, well!" says Mr. Robert. "Found something to eat, did you? What's the menu?" "Smothered potatoes with salt pork, baked beans, hard-tack, and coffee," says Marjorie. "Here it comes." And, say, maybe that don't sound so thrillin' to you, but to me it listens luscious. "By Jove!" says Mr. Robert, after he's sampled the layout. "Who's the cook!" Vee says it was Miss Hampton.
Thrillin'! Say, I don't believe any of us could tell just what we did do for the next half hour or so. I remember once Old Hickory got jammed into the hole and we had to pry him out. And another time, when we was rollin' out the cask, it was Auntie who helped me pull it through and ease it down the slope. She'd lost most of her hairpins and her gray hair was hangin' down her back.
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