United States or Comoros ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
It was the "my dear" that struck Eleanor's ear as odd. The manner said plainly as words could say "You weren't before; but you are now." "Oh, it was rather hot," answered Eleanor quietly. "Y're on the wrong soide. Y're in the sun. If y'll sit over b'side off me, my dear gurl " Eleanor nearly exploded.
An' we're goin' out ash I proposed. Yer a shplendid feller, Abe," continued Kent, with lofty patronage. "A shplendid feller, an' do great credit t' yer 'portunities. But y' haven't had my 'dvantages of mingling constantly in p'lite s'ciety, y'know. Rough diamond, I know, 'nall that short o' shing, but lack polish an' easy grace. So I'll be th' Lord Mayor, an' y'll be th' train. Undershtand?"
The arms of all but the hurt man went above heads, hands facing. "Y'll find y'r man's carcass in the bloody mess where ye sent the sheep ! d' y' see yon eagle? 'Tis pickin' his bones " roared Matthews through funnelled palms; and both jumped back to the shelter of the hemlocks. The outlaws drew together to confer. "They don't believe us," said Wayland.
"Careful, careful!" he cautioned, as certain expelling movements began from within, "Easy, Ham, you jam-fool, keep the door shut, y'll break me." "Now, Jerry, all heave sh'gether!" exclaimed a voice from the blackness of the interior. "Will ye wait a minute, Mr. Durrett, sir?" implored the cabdriver. "You'll be after ruining me cab entirely." Which he did, after a severe kick in the stomach.
''Tis good of you to come and see a poor devil, Mr Pendle, he said in a grateful voice. 'Y'll be no loser by yer kin'ness, I can tell y'. 'To whom should a priest come, save to those who need him? 'Oh, stow that! growled Mosk, in a tone of disgust; 'if I want religion I can get more than enough from that Baltic cove. He's never done preachin' and prayin' as if I were a bloomin' 'eathen.
"Sure, sor, the toob toombled down atop ov this poor bhoy here, an' a'most made gammy duff ov him!" "Well, well, p'raps y'll have better luck next time," replied the man jokingly; and, turning to me, he said in a kindly way, "A miss is as good as a mile, my lad; but, accident or no accident, you'll have to clear up that mess there, or there'll be ructions aboard, I can tell you!"
But fust y'll put up them mitts o' yours, I sees as they're gettin' oneasy, worritin' around as though they'd a notion to git a grip on suthin'." The half-breed made no attempt to obey, but stared coldly into the lean face before him. "Hands up!" roared Arizona, with such a dreadful change of tone that the man's hands were thrust above his head as though a shot had struck him.
The Sergeant thrust his hand aside, and said sharply: "Whin I take y'r hand, Little Hammer, it'll be to put a grip an y'r wrists that'll stay there till y'are in quarters out of which y'll come nayther winter nor summer. Put that in y'r pipe and smoke it, y' scamp!" Little Hammer had a bad time at the Post that night.
There was a dreaminess, a pre-occupation, an exaltation, in the maternal look which the girl could not understand. "Well, I'm glad you've come," her mother said, as soon as the last note had passed out of her. "I want to go and fetch your father; but what's more'n that, I want to tell 'ee what have happened. Y'll be fess enough, my poppet, when th'st know!" "Since I've been away?" Tess asked.
"Soapin' yer saddle," he observed at last, as the lean man happened to look up and see the grinning face in the doorway of the bunkhouse. "Guess saddles do git kind o' slippery when you ain't slung a leg over one fer a whiles. Say, best soap the knees o' yer pants too, Arizona. Mebbe y'll sit tighter."
Word Of The Day