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There was little grace about his movements, though he had developed in courtesy and consideration to a surprising degree. He sometimes worried over his lack of graceful movements. "I've stood in front of the glass many a time," he said to Epstein, "and practised trying to be graceful, but it's no go. I'm as awkward as a duck; what'll I do?" "Nothing," said Epstein, gravely, "nothing, my boy.
Johnny turned his head ponderously and nodded. "Pleased to meet you, stranger. An' what'll you all have?" "Old Holland, mate," replied the other, joining them. "All up!" invited Hopalong, waving them forward. "Might as well do things right or not at all. Them's my sentiments, which I holds as proper. Plain rye, general, if you means me," he replied to the bartender's look of inquiry.
"Howdy' do," said the stranger, in a serious tone. "What'll you take for that cat?" The little girl made no reply, and the stranger, opening the gate, came into the yard. She looked weary, rather bedraggled, yet hurried: her air was predominantly one of anxiety. "I'll give you a quarter for that cat," she said.
"I would give a great deal that the business was now as it was even then," responded her father; "there's far worse to come, Una, an' you must be firm, an' prepare to hear what'll thry you sorely." "I can't guess it, father; but for God's sake tell me at once." "Who do you think burned our property?"
Peter told him moodily. "Eh?" said Harold. "Well, you can cheer up about that. Havre's not at all a bad place. There are some decent shows about there and some very decent people. What you got to do?" "I don't know; I suppose I shall find out when I get there. But I don't care what it's like. It's vile having to leave just now, when I'm getting straight. And what'll you do for a four at bridge?"
"Gone downstairs to get a paintbrush," replied More Trees. "What'll Moon rise on?" asked Nyoda, knitting her brows in thought. "Take the piano stool," suggested the First Soldier, leaning on his weapon in a picturesque attitude. "The very thing!" exclaimed Nyoda.
A waiter who looked as if he might have been a prizefighter at one time shambled up to them with a soiled napkin thrown over one arm. As it chanced, he approached Teddy first. "Bean soup! What'll you have," he demanded with a suddenness that startled the Circus Boy.
"If we're not married if I go home without you it's what'll be on everybody's lips." "But it won't be true," she said, with a little gasp. He laughed. "That won't matter. It's how it'll look." "Oh, looks!" "It's what we're talking about, isn't it? It's what makes the difference. I shall figure as a cad." He spoke as one who makes an astounding discovery. She was inexpressibly shocked.
"Scrubbing's hard work." "You'll see. What'll I scrub it with a broom?" "You ought to have a scrub-brush, but I haven't any. You'll have to do it with an old broom and a cloth. I can let you have the broom and I guess we can get a cloth of Mrs. Hunt. You going to do it now?" she added, as Tode began to pull off his coat. "Right now," he answered.
Anyhow, the risk would be about the same, or less, for I might have the spirit to run harder the more I had to run for the more spirits I had to run for, in fact, as it turned out so I says: "I think I'll take one of them there flasks of whisky to last us on the road." "Right y'are," says Stiffner. "What'll ye have a small one or a big one?"
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