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Fust I thot you was deef and dumb, then I thot you was sick or crazy, or suthin', and then by and by I begin to reckon you was a passel of sickly fools that couldn't think of nothing to say. Wher'd ye come from?" The Sphynx was a Sphynx no more!
"Wonder how she came here?" he said thoughtfully. "Seems as though the storm had kind o' dumped her down," Abe Allinson admitted. Again Beasley chuckled. "Say, was ther' ever such a miracle o' foolishness as you fellers? You make me laff or tired, or something. Wher'd she come from? Ain't the Padre sold his farm?" he demanded, turning on Buck. "Ain't he sold it to a woman?
Fust I thot you was deef and dumb, then I thot you was sick or crazy, or suthin', and then by and by I begin to reckon you was a passel of sickly fools that couldn't think of nothing to say. Wher'd ye come from?" The Sphynx was a Sphynx no more!
Wher'd yer say yer seen her?" asked Sandy excitedly. "Why, by the collard patch, not fifty yards from the Causeway. She looked like she'd drifted on the marsh. I calc'lated when I got through shootin' that I'd pick her up an' take her down to yer landin'. The oars wuz in, an' I guess she must 'a' strayed from the shore, through somebody fergettin' to tie her up."
There's money enough to take me where I want to go." "Whee-w! Thunder and jimson root! Wher'd ye git that? Didn't dig it out of a hole?" "No. I jest saved it-a dime at a time-see?" Here she turned it out on the table-some bills, but mostly silver dimes and quarters. "Thunder and scissors! Must be two er three hundred dollars there," stared he.
It had a very picturesque effect, and was regarded with feelings of veneration by many of the American passengers, one of whom paid a tribute to the departed hero, which he wound up by observing with nasal emphasis and lugubrious countenance, "If twarnt for that ere man, wher'd we be, I waunt to know; not here I guess."
Many a time that little schooner o' mine has kept up with a steamer." "Wher'd you ha' been if the tow rope had parted, though?" said the master of the Thistle, with a wink at the landlord.
I does 'members, dat sum de neighbers say dey wuz treated prutty mean, but I don't 'member much 'bout it 'caise I'se leetle den." "Wher'd I sleep? I neber fergit dat trun'l bed, dat I sleep in. "Marsa John's place kinda stock farm an' I dun de milkin'. You all know dat wuz easy like so I jes' keep busy milkin' an' gits out de hard work.
"You're a good friend, Sunny," he said earnestly. "Now I can't never make a mistake. There it is all wrote ther'. An' when I ain't sure 'bout nothing, why, I only jest got to read what you wrote. I don't guess the kiddies can reach them there. Y'see, kiddies is queer 'bout things. Likely they'd get busy tearing those sheets right up, an' then wher'd I be?
Wher'd you git the news?" "From this gentleman here," Sis replied, indicating Woodward without looking at him. She was pale as death, and her voice was low and gentle. Woodward would have explained, but the apparent unconcern of the women gave him no opportunity. "I declare, Sis," exclaimed her mother, with a fond, apologetic little laugh; "ef you hain't a plum sight, I hain't never seed none."
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