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"Why, Hadley!" she remarks. "Whatever is the matter now?" "He he chased me into the house!" whines Master Hadley from behind the chair. "Did you?" says the old girl. "Sure," says I. "He's too blamed fresh!" "There, there!" says she. "You mustn't speak that way of Hadley. He is only a little boy, you know." "Yes'm," says I. "And he was only indulging in innocent play," she goes on.
They hove the lead and got five fathom. No flats about that. "Zach was for anchorin' again. 'What do you think, Nat? asks 'Bije. "'Anchor, of course, if you want to, Nat says. 'You're runnin' this craft. I'm only passenger. "'But what do you THINK? whines Zach. 'Can't you tell us what you do think? "'Well, if 'twas me, I wouldn't anchor till I had to.
His name is Tom Martin; he lives in a small country town, where he commands the trade in Dry Goods and Men's Clothing; his speech is pitched in a high key, is very slow, sometimes whines faintly; and he always calls me "Son." "What in the world!" I exclaimed, as we shook hands. "Well," he drawled, "I dunno why I shouldn't be as meetropolitan as anybody.
Montagnard, his faithful companion, had seated himself in front of him, and contemplated him with moist, troubled eyes, at the same time emitting short, sharp whines, which seemed to say: "What is the matter?" and, "How are we going to get out of this?" Suddenly he heard footsteps approaching.
He was badly wounded in two places, blood dripped on the rocks from open cuts three inches long, and one paw hung helpless, while with eager cries and beseeching looks he urged us to avenge him in his private feud with a boar. Assured of our interest, he stayed not to be comforted or cured, but hobbled eagerly up the trail, begging us with whines to accompany him.
As, on the other hand, he had no difficulty in conveying to her by sympathetic whines the sentiment, "Of course I would have helped you if I could; but they tied me up, and this disgusting old rope has taken me a month to worry through." So, in spite of the past, Amelia grew up good and gentle, unselfish and considerate for others.
It is not luck, but labour, that makes men. Luck, says an American writer, is ever waiting for something to turn up; Labour, with keen eye and strong will, always turns up something. Luck lies in bed and wishes the postman would bring him news of a legacy; Labour turns out at six, and with busy pen or ringing hammer lays the foundation of a competence. Luck whines; Labour whistles.
He dragged the dog toward the manhole and disappeared. When he came back, he found Eden standing over by the dark chimney, looking away in an offended attitude. "I caned him unmercifully," he panted. "Of course you didn't hear anything; he never whines when I beat him. He didn't nip you, did he?"
"I allow it," said he, "to be among the best you have; and I know very few lines in your language equal to the two first stanzas in his 'Meditation on Napoleon, or to those exquisite verses called 'Le Lac; but you will allow also that he wants originality and nerve. His thoughts are pathetic, but not deep; he whines, but sheds no tears.
The kennels were of vast proportions, hedged in by high palisades, through the interstices of which many a black muzzle now protruded, sniffing like ill-tempered women, or uttering shrill whines of despair.
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