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Updated: May 31, 2025
It isn't no Maker I'm goin' to I'm goin' to the stars, 'Oh, I sez, 'you're dreamin' again, 'No, I'm not' he sez. 'Didn't I tell yer they'd been a-callin' on me all day? I don't mean the stars, but them as lives in 'em. "No, sir, he wasn't wanderin' then. 'I wish the children was 'ere, he sez; 'but you couldn't get 'em all in this little room. My eye, what a lot we've 'ad!
'I've been a-callin' to you half a dozen times, said Sam, hanging his hat on a peg, 'but you didn't hear me. 'No, Sammy, replied Mr. Weller, again looking thoughtfully at the fire. 'I was in a referee, Sammy. 'Wot about? inquired Sam, drawing his chair up to the fire. 'In a referee, Sammy, replied the elder Mr. Weller, 'regarding HER, Samivel. Here Mr.
"An' is it the polace ye'd be a-callin' in?" she burst forth volubly, reproach and indignation written upon the round red face she turned upon Miss Norma, "the polace? An' would ye be turnin' over the darlin' to the loikes of thim, to be locked up along with thaves an' murtherers afore night?"
"An' agin, there's little Joey. Who was it but the polace as come arristin' the feyther of the boy for batin' of his own wife, and him sint up for a year, an' she a-dyin' along of bein' weakly an' nobody to support her, an' Joey left in this very Tiniment an orphan child! Don't ye be a-callin' in no polace for the loikes of this swate angel choild, Miss Norma darlint, don't ye be doin' it!
I'd like to find out where you were a-visitin'. And you've never heard tell of the Brice homestead, at Westbury, that was Colonel Wilton Brice's, who fought in the Revolution? I'm astonished at you, Mirandy. When I used to be at the Dales', in Mount Vernon Street, in thirty-seven, Mrs. Charles Atterbury Brice used to come there in her carriage, a-callin'. She was Appleton's mother. Severe!
It must ha' bin, wot d'ye call it second sight for I knew then an' there I'd got a prize in the lottery " "Oh, shut up!" shouted Royson, diving frantically for his boots. "That's no way for a barrow-knight to talk to 'is admirin' skipper," said Stump. "But I s'pose, now, it sounds queer to 'ave me a-callin' you Sir Richard, w'en, as like as not, I might be dammin' your eyes as second mate?"
'Caze ef I do that, you know, then, here, fus' thing, he be a-callin' me C'nelius." "I think C'nelius sounds sweet'n " The speaker clapped a hand to her mouth. "Escuse me! O, Mr. Leggett, kin you escuse me?" "Escuse you?" his sidelong glance was ravishing "yo' beauty mo'n escuse you." The maiden dropped her lashes and drew her feet out of her protector's way. "An' you an' Mr. Mahch is frien's!
Little Maggie's face brightened joyously. "Maybe it's the princess lady, Bobby." "And who is this that you call the princess lady, Maggie?" asked the Interpreter. Bobby answered for his sister. "Aw, she means old Adam's daughter. She's allus a-callin' her that an' a-makin' up stories about her." "Oh, so you know Miss Helen Ward, too, do you?" The Interpreter was surprised.
Then a little new moon peered over the distant pine tops, the heavens spread their starry veil, and the hour of Susanna Crane's wooing had come. "Me! You!" intoned the Man, to the sweep of his paddle. "Me! You! That's what the waves were sayin', that's what you kep' a-callin' to me through the woods, that's what the stars are writin' on the sky Me! You!
She wuz a-holdin' that right arm up towards the Heavens; the fingers wuz curved a little they seemed to be begenin' to sunthin' up in the sky to come down and bless the world. Mebby it wuz Justice she wuz a-callin' on to come down and watch over the rights of wimmen. Anyway, she looked as well agin with both arms on her.
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