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It didn't seem square to walk off and leave those girls, black and white, who were my friends. In the other factories I just disappeared as suddenly as I came. After a few days I could not stand it and penned a jiggly note to Miss Cross. I hated to leave her and the girls, etc., etc. I was her loving friend, “Constance,” alias “Sunbeam.” In a Dress Factory
She says she loves to 'run in' and see people, and she loves to go to places and spend the day with her sewing; but that these things where you go and stand up and eat off a jiggly plate, and see everybody, and not really see ANYBODY, are a nuisance and an abomination." "Well, she's about right there," chuckled Mr. Smith.
The last of the special coaches was barely moving on its jiggly way to the main line, carrying the tag end of the revellers, when he set forth in his car for a mid-day visit to Red Roof.
"Oh, but they couldn't take me without you," and Peter began to weep. "Let's both of us have dirty faces all the time so nobody won't want us." "No, let's both of us have clean faces all the time so somebody will want both of us. I'm mighty sorry I cut my hair off so jiggly.
And it didn't need any jiggly message from the ouija board to tell that something important in the affairs of the Corrugated Trust might happen within the next few minutes. You could almost feel it in the air. Piddie did. You could see that by the nervous way he was twitchin' his lips. Course it was natural the big boss should turn first to me. "Torchy," he growls, "shut that door."
Saxon remembered her school geography, and with her mind's eye she saw a certain outline map of a continent with jiggly wavering parallel lines that denoted coast. "Oh," she cried, "then you are South American." Mercedes shrugged her shoulders. "I had to be born somewhere. It was a great ranch, my mother's. You could put all Oakland in one of its smallest pastures."
Eleanor took the song and read through a stanza or two, while Bob wriggled, blushed and waited for the storm to burst. She had heard a good deal about Eleanor Watson's uncertain temper. But at first Eleanor only laughed. "Goodness! What jiggly meter! It's lucky you lost it, Bob." "No," said Bob, sturdily. "It was a dandy song, one of the best that came in. Babe said so too.
That's a sort of tinpanning, jiggly stuff, isn't it?" "Glenn, it's the fever of the public pulse," replied Carley. "The graceful waltz, like the stately minuet, flourished back in the days when people rested rather than raced." "More's the pity," said Glenn. Then after a moment, in which his gaze returned to the fire, he inquired rather too casually, "Does Morrison still chase after you?"
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