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Then I says to myself: 'Bud, you ain't no fancy office man, and even if you are doin' good work here, you can't put it in writin' for them big bugs at Washington. Mebby John is so dog-gone busy like the fella with both bands full and his suspenders broke that he'd be glad to get behind 'most anything to get shut of me." "I think you're mistaken.
"What are yer why doin' on the slate, Isley?" said he, taking out an old clay pipe and lighting it. "Sums," said Isley. Bob puffed away at his pipe a moment. "'Tain't no use!" he said, sitting down on the clay and drawing his knees up. "Edication's a failyer." "Listen at 'im!" exclaimed the boy. "D'yer mean ter say it ain't no use learnin' readin' and writin' and sums?" "Isley!" "Right, father."
"DEAR NEFFY, I never was much of a hand at spellin', an' I'm not rightly sure o' that word, howsever, it reads all square, so ittle do. If I had been the inventer o' writin' I'd have had signs for a lot o' words. Then round would have bin far better O, like that.
Tony is all right at writin' letters but he's a lazy bones else ways." "Who's Tony?" asked Cora as if indifferently. "He's Jim's side partner. Say, girl, I'll just tell you. I came up here a few weeks ago from a newspaper advertisement. I never knowed Jim Peters before, but if them two fellers think I'm goin' to cook in that hut and never go no place off this dock they're foolin' themselves.
Draw all the best citizens after you. Set a example to the state.... Step back and look at that there seeder, Marvin." Marvin looked at the seeder judicially. "Calc'late to guarantee it, Scattergood?" "Put it in writin'," said Scattergood. "Calc'late I'll have to have it. Considerin' everything, guess I'll take it along." "Knowed you would, Marvin. Sich men as you is to be depended on.
Pete nodded. "But I don't know." "Is there any way of finding out before you leave here?" she asked. "I might write a letter and ask Jim Bailey, or Andy. They would know." "I'll get you a pen and paper." Pete flushed. "Would you mind writin' it for me? I ain't no reg'lar, professional writer. Pop Annersley learned me some but I reckon Jim could read your writin' better."
"'Tis I that am the poor hand for writin', young masther, but there was no schoolin' when I was a gurrl such as there is now. Jim, that's me son, he makes shift to read me writin', but he always sinds me a written envelope to put me answer in so that the postman can read it. An' so I niver learnt the address. I thought, av course, he'd be here.
Dhrive out av the station, across the road outside, an' wait there five minuts by the clock. Ye ondershtand? Wait five minuts, an, maybe I'll come an' join ye. If I don't 'twill be bekase I'm detained onexpected, an' then ye'll dhrive to my solicitor straight. Here's his address, if ye can read writin', an' he put ut on a piece av paper. He gave me half-a-crown for the cab, an' I tuk his bag."
the END of Nettie Herbert." "Oh, dear me!" she sighed, when she had finished, "I am tired of writin' books; Dumps, sposin' you make up 'bout the 'Bad Little Girl, an' I'll write it down jes like you tell me." "All right," assented Dumps, once more leaving her dolls, and coming to the table.
An' I couldn't git somebody ter toll her off an' take her up. That ain't fair. What ought I ter hev done?" "Wa'al," said Luke, drifting into argument, "the town-folks 'low ez ye hev got nuthin ter prove it by, the stray-book an' records bein' burnt. The town-folks 'low ez ye can't prove by writin' an' sech ez ye ever tried ter find the owner."
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