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If you had put an honest man to work for me, O'Malley would be behind the bars himself." "Some doubt of that, Mr. Swift," grumbled Blatz. "Why?" "Where's your evidence that this O'Malley was connected with the attempt to blow up your locomotive the first time? Mr. Newton's testimony would need corroboration." "Never mind that," rejoined the young inventor, with a smile.
Victor [pseud.] Appleton - Tom Swift and His Electric Locomotive, or, Two Miles a Minute on the Rails
Pepper, "where's Joel? Oh here, you old chap!" "Well, Mrs. Pepper," said the old gentleman, coming up to the step, Phronsie hanging to his hand, "this looks like starting for town to- morrow, doesn't it?" "Oh! what shall we do, sir?" cried Mrs. Pepper, in distress. "To think you have come down here in the goodness of your heart, to be met with such an accident as this.
"Where's your luggage?" continued Mrs Forrest, as she kissed her niece. "Did you walk up from the station, and leave it there?" "Oh no, aunt; I didn't know the way," said Anna. She began to feel afraid she had done quite the wrong thing in coming with Mr Oswald. "Oh, you had to take a fly," said Mrs Forrest. "It's a most provoking thing altogether."
"No, nothing; but the troopers are all out again, and, I hear, are gone to the forest." "Well, Benjamin, good-by, I shall be off from this part of the country it's no use my staying here. Where's Agatha and cook?" "They came to Lymington early this morning." "Wish them good-by for me, Benjamin." "Where are you going, then?" "I can't exactly say, but I think London way.
Where's Davy?" "Here, take care. He is all right," were Gerald's words. He meant Adrian, whom his cousin lifted out, with eyes open and conscious, but with limp hands and white exhausted looks, to be carried to the fly that stood in waiting. "Is the other boy safe?" asked Gerald anxiously.
"What for are you worrying about the lad, Martha Hatton? He's grown up, you know, and he isn't worrying about you. I'll warrant that some way or other he's with that Harlow girl, and where's his poor mother then? Clean forgotten, of course. Sons and daughters, indeed! They are a bitter pleasure, they are that.
The old lady glowered at him as she answered: "They're not so poor. But where's the bad ones for the pigs?" The latest American church device for "raising the wind" is what a religious paper describes as "some collection-box." The inventor hails from Oklahoma. If a member of the congregation drops in a twenty-five cent piece or a coin of larger value, there is silence.
"If you've nothing else to do, my dears, suppose we go over to the pines together? Where's Miss Jeannie? Wouldn't she like it? All the breeze there is haunts them always." "I'm always ready for the pines," said Leslie. "Here, Dakie, I hope you'll catch a butterfly for every pin. Oh, now I think of it, have you found your elephant?" "Yes, half way up the garret-stairs.
"An' why should Mr Nanjivell be followin' you, of all people? An' where's my blessed latest, that has been a handful ever since you two left me, well knowin' the straits I'm put to?" "If I'm introodin', ma'am " said the voice of Nicky-Nan. "Oh, no . . . not at all, Mr Nanjivell! so long as you realise how I'm situated. . . . An' whoever left that oven door open, I'll swear I didn't."
"Dead," said Trendon bluntly. Then, breaking his own rule of repression, he asked: "Did he come off the schooner with you?" "Picked him up," was the straining answer. "Drifting." The survivor looked around him, then into Barnett's face, and his mind too, traversed the years. "North Dakota?" he queried. "No; I've changed my ship," said Barnett. "This is the Wolverine." "Where's the Laughing Lass?"