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Updated: May 16, 2025
Volsky and Bennie stood upon the threshold. "What's a-matter?" questioned Mrs. Volsky her voice sodden with grief. "What's been a-happenin'?" But Ella ran across the space between them, and knelt in front of Rose-Marie. "Give 'er t' me!" she breathed fiercely; "she's my sister. Give 'er t' me!" Silently Rose-Marie handed over the light little figure.
Unless he was sickening for the scarlet fever she didn't know in her seven sinses what was a-matter with him these days. He was as white as a ghost, and as thin as a shadder, and no wonder neither, for he didn't eat enough to keep body and soul together.
It's 'is sixtieth night this piece, and there's only been sixty-nine of the run and sometimes they discussed the audience generally: "Don't know what's a-matter with 'em to-night; ye may work yer eyes out and ye can't get a 'and."
We're just a-camping in a bunch. What's a-matter? Seagrue here," he nodded to a sharp-jawed companion, "and Perry," he added, jerking his thumb toward the scarred-faced man, "and me own these two big tents in partners." "What's your name?" "My name's Rebstock." "Produce the axes stolen here from these two men," said Stanley, indicating the choppers behind him.
As he kneeled in front of her he did not cry, but the tears ran down his face quickly. Morel, on the opposite side of the room, sat with his elbows on his knees glaring across. "What's a-matter with 'er?" he asked. "Faint!" replied Paul. "H'm!" The elderly man began to unlace his boots. He stumbled off to bed. His last fight was fought in that home. Paul kneeled there, stroking his mother's hand.
Thomas Jordan started out of his little glass office, and came running down the room. "What's a-matter, what's a-matter?" he said, in his old man's sharp voice. "I'm just goin' ter settle this little , that's all," said Dawes desperately. "What do you mean?" snapped Thomas Jordan. "What I say," said Dawes, but he hung fire. Morel was leaning against the counter, ashamed, half-grinning.
Night after night he forced himself to tell her things, although she did not listen. It drove him almost insane to have her thus. At last: "What's a-matter, mother?" he asked. She did not hear. "What's a-matter?" he persisted. "Mother, what's a-matter?" "You know what's the matter," she said irritably, turning away. The lad he was sixteen years old went to bed drearily.
"I know nobody nowhere," said Dawes. "Well," said Paul, "it's because you don't choose to, then." There was another silence. "We s'll be taking my mother home as soon as we can," said Paul. "What's a-matter with her?" asked Dawes, with a sick man's interest in illness. "She's got a cancer." There was another silence. "But we want to get her home," said Paul. "We s'll have to get a motor-car."
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