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She ventured back into the house to find Olga Cedarstrom still breathing out threatenings and slaughter. Olga was in her nightgown and a wrapper. She had not even stopped for slippers when she came from her bed. Now she padded to the back stairs, turning to shake her clenched fist at Janice and cry: "I leave! I leave! I bane going to pack my troonk. The man pay me oop to last night, and I leave!"
They found Gottlieb with his arms cruelly pinioned sitting on a log in a state of utter dejection, and dripping with water from his ducking. "Ich zay, Antroo, ish dish vat dey galls a vree goontry, already? A blace vare troonk sheounders dosh vot ever dey hadn't ort! Dat is vree koontry. Mein knabe ish roon off ver liebin a Yangee; unt a vool he ish, doo.
The box was on my troonk and when Willie come up the stairs for it, I grab de box and pitch it up hyar. I don't know you vant it, Janice and your fader." "Well," sighed Broxton Day, when he heard the good news and had the treasure-box in his hands, "'All's well that ends well. But what a peck of trouble that Swedish girl made us!" "No, no I" exclaimed Janice warmly. "I did it. It was my fault.
The bullfrog's harsh troonk "ushered in the night" and, imagining one of them as the very one that escaped the serpent and leaped into the creek centuries ago, we left the place to the spirits of that unknown age and the moonlight. But why this concern over a vanished race? Why all this worry over the Coliseum or Parthenon?
I left it on your trunk in the storeroom." "On my troonk?" repeated the woman. "Where it stood in de storeroom?" "Oh, yes!" cried Janice clasping her hands. It had suddenly impressed her that beyond any doubt, Olga was not a thief. Whatever had happened to the treasure-box, Olga did not knowingly have it in her possession. "I remember de leetle box. Yes! You t'ink I take it?"
The most aldermanic, with his chin upon a heart-leaf, which serves for a napkin to his drooling chaps, under this northern shore quaffs a deep draught of the once scorned water, and passes round the cup with the ejaculation tr-r-r-oonk, tr-r-r oonk, tr-r-r-oonk! and straightway comes over the water from some distant cove the same password repeated, where the next in seniority and girth has gulped down to his mark; and when this observance has made the circuit of the shores, then ejaculates the master of ceremonies, with satisfaction, tr-r-r-oonk! and each in his turn repeats the same down to the least distended, leakiest, and flabbiest paunched, that there be no mistake; and then the howl goes round again and again, until the sun disperses the morning mist, and only the patriarch is not under the pond, but vainly bellowing troonk from time to time, and pausing for a reply.
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