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"Uncle," says he, "how will those scuppernongs be about now on the big arbor in front of Uncle Phil's?" "Bless you, Mistuh Robin," says old Noah, "they'll be dead ripe by now, and there's jes' doodlins of 'em. Miss Peggy Culpepper, she'll be mighty lonesome, a pickin' of 'em all by herself." "Humph!" says Robin, tintin' up. "Think so, do you?"
My favourite books were the Hardy Boys and I finished practically the entire series while I was at Ashok's. I also enjoyed comics like Tintin and Phantom. Evenings, after I had finished with Ashok's shop, I would listen to the FM radio music programmes. Like any other teenager, I like fast and loud music.
She loitered in a thousand places, for Cigarette knew everybody; she chatted with a group of Turcos, she emptied her barrel for some Zouaves, she ate sweetmeats with a lot of negro boys, she boxed a little drummer's ear for slurring over the "r'lin tintin" at his practice, she drank a demi-tasse with some officers at a cafe; she had ten minutes' pistol-shooting, where she beat hollow a young dandy of the Guides who had come to look at Algiers for a week, and made even points with one of the first shots of the "Cavalry a pied," as the Algerian antithesis runs.
I had to bump Fatty a bit makin' the catch; but when he sees what the game is, he comes back with the friendly grin. "There!" says Vee, tintin' up. "Now behave." "Sorry," says I, "but I had to field my position, didn't I? Once more, now." "Certainly not," says Vee. "Besides, there goes the curtain." And if it hadn't been for interruptions like that we might have had a perfectly good time.
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