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What-d'ye-call-him Sponge doesn't come! exclaimed Captain Seedeybuck, as he lay full length, with his shaggy greasy head on the fine rose-coloured satin sofa, and his legs cocked over the cushion. 'Why not? asked Miss Glitters, who was beguiling the twilight half-hour before candles with knitting.
Old what-d'ye-call-him? is at fourteenthly before now. "'A note for you, sir, said the mess waiter, presenting me with a rose-colored three-cornered billet. It was from la chère Boggs herself, and ran thus: DEAR SIR, Mr. M'Phun and a few friends are coming to tea at my house after meeting; perhaps you will also favor us with your company. Yours truly, ELIZA BOGGS. "What was to be done?
Hennessy, "an' it ain't like shinny, an' it ain't like lawn-teenis, an' it ain't like forty-fives, an' it ain't" "Like canvas-back duck or anny other game ye know," said Mr. Dooley. "Thin what is it like?" said Mr. Hennessy. "I see be th' pa-aper that Hobart What-d'ye-call-him is wan iv th' best at it.
The stranger drew himself up in the doorway a well-knit figure of a man, clear of eye, bronzed of hue, clad in blue sea-cloth faced with scarlet, and wearing a short sword at the hip. "Where's my Oliver?" he shouted. "You'll forgive my voice, gentlemen. I'm Harry Vyell, at your service, fresh from shipboard, and not hoarse with anthems like old what-d'ye-call-him."
"Does it matter what I think," said Ferrers, with an attempted touch at the sentimental, "when Lord This, and Lord That, and Mr. So-and-so, and Count What-d'ye-call-him, are all making their way to you, to dispossess me of my envied monopoly?"
So I suppose, Hinnissy, we'll have to stay an' do th' best we can, an' lave Andhrew Carnegie secede fr'm th' Union. They'se wan consolation; an' that is, if th' American people can govern thimsilves, they can govern annything that walks." "An' what 'd ye do with Aggy what-d'ye-call-him?" asked Mr. Hennessy. "Well," Mr.
"Does it matter what I think," said Ferrers, with an attempted touch at the sentimental, "when Lord This, and Lord That, and Mr. So-and-so, and Count What-d'ye-call-him, are all making their way to you, to dispossess me of my envied monopoly?"
There was What-d'ye-call-him Thingamy What's-his-name Marigny, the Minister of the Interior, Monpavon, and your master, my dear Noël.
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