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Updated: June 11, 2025
He's got hisself made our ally for to get between him and the Rooshians. What he's a-drivin' at is to get us to fight his battles for him, and him to sit snug and accoomulate cucumbers like King Solomons." Uncle Moses felt he ought to interpose on this revision of the Authorised Version of Scripture. "You haven't hit the word in the middle, mate," said he, and supplied it, correctly enough.
They've turned off; they're goin' down to Hank's. Let's go too. Come on, fellers, what d'you say? I'm allfired dry. Ain't you?" "I'm willun'," said Frank Rice; "what d'you say, Lime?" John looked up into Lime's face and said to him, in a low voice, "Let's go home; that was Steve a-drivin'." Lime nodded and made a sign to John to keep still, but John saw his head lift.
Again Rebecca blushed, but this time in anger. "See here, Copernicus Droop " she began. "Oh, I don't mean nothin' mean, now," he insisted, earnestly. "I'm jest leadin' up to the pint sorter natural like breakin' the thing easy, ye know." "What air you a-drivin' at?"
'I'm a-goin' to drop in on Mr. Bev'ley, mam, I am, I sez. 'Then give 'im my love, she sez, 'an' tell 'im I shan't never forget 'is pride and 'is selfishness, she sez, an' she give me a crown into the bargain, she did. An' then jest as the coach was a-drivin' off t'other 'un the young 'un, give me this. 'For Mr. Bev'ley, she sez in a whisper, and here it be, sir."
Coke, at any rate, found himself nearer a state of pallid nervousness than ever before in the course of a variegated life. It was impossible that he should actually grow pale, but his brick-red features assumed a purple tint, and his fiery little eyes glinted. "Wot are you a-drivin' at, mister?" he growled at last, after trying vainly to expectorate and compromising the effort in a husky gargle.
I've seen 'em in Hy' Park, with young bloods a-drivin' of 'em." "What are young bloods?" asked Sylvia, rushing at this "new opening". "Oh, nobs! Swell coves, don't you know," returned poor Bates, thus again attacked. "Young men o' fortune that is, that's given to doing it grand." "I see," said Sylvia, waving her little hand graciously. "Noblemen and Princes and that sort of people. Quite so.
"No." "See the green plumes an' ribbons?" "I do," vacantly. "Know what day o' the month it is?" "March seventeenth, of course." "Live near New York?" "About twenty miles out." "Gee whiz!" exclaimed the driver with a gasp. "I've bin a-drivin' o' this car for twenty years, an' I never met anythin' quite so innercent. Well, it's St. Patrick's Day, an' them's the wild Irish."
Just as I drove through the gate, I saw the eldest gal a-makin' for the house for dear life she had a short petticoat on that looked like a kilt, and her bare legs put me in mind of the long shanks of a bittern down in a rush swamp, a-drivin' away like mad, full chisel arter a frog. I couldn't think what on airth was the matter.
Oh, the lovely Nannie O, The able Nannie O, The Nannie O a-drivin' through the gale. They were lying there, tied to the docks. They were all dreams, so long and clean, with the beautiful sheer fore and aft, and the overhang of the racers they were meant to be the gold run, with the grain of the varnished oak rails shining above the night-black of their topsides, and varnished spars.
Before Jenny Bell went to live with her darter I didn't know what I should dew, for the taters was gittin' pooty low. Yew know she used ter eat twenty ter a meal an' then look hungry at the platter. An' then ef old Square Ely didn't come a-drivin' up one mornin' with ten bushel in the farm wagon! He'd been savin' 'em fer us all winter fer fear we might run short in the spring.
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