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Updated: May 27, 2025
Well, maybe that's enough of the lady's repartee to quote exact; for the rest wa'n't strictly ladylike. And the more Alvin tries to convince her how sorry he is, the livelier she cuts loose with her tongue, until a crowd collects to enjoy the performance. "Beat it!" says I, tuggin' Alvin by the arm.
"I surely do, if he's Alvin Baker. You know my folks used to live in Canada. And don't you remember that my cousin Al visited us three years ago with his father and mother? He wrote to me several times from Edwards College, but I didn't know he had a wireless set, and I suppose he didn't know I had one." "Well, it makes the hunt more interesting, anyway," said Cub.
"Never met the gentleman." "Then your name is not Alvin Baker?" "Maybe you know my name better than I do." "No, but I know just as well as you do that you are not Alvin Baker." "How do you know that?" "Because Alvin Baker is my cousin. I am Hal Stone, and I live in Oswego, New York." "I do not believe you. You are an impostor." "Let me tell you a secret. I have penetrated your plot.
"Please wait here a moment, Madam," says he, and then starts off, leavin' her starin' after him and still statin' her opinion of him reckless. He only goes as far as the florist's, next to the corner, and I follows. "A dozen of those American beauties quickly, please," says Alvin, fishin' hasty through his pockets. "Oh, I say, McCabe, can you lend me fifteen for a few moments? Thank you."
"But you'd better jump into your pants and git over to the land-office. We want to nail that 160 before some other 'Scissor-bill' beats you to it." Under Pinkey's guidance Wallie went to the land office, which was in the rear of a secondhand store kept by Mr. Alvin Tucker, who was also the land commissioner.
He was a little older than the Catwhisker boys, but he had no "college airs" and was soon telling his story as one boy to a group of chums, while the men stood around and drank it all in as eagerly as if they themselves were boys again. "Bill Howard made the biggest mistake of his life when he confederated with three other sophomores to haze me," Alvin began.
By their names ye may know them, the women figuring as Loveina, Larsenia, Serena, Leanna, Orreana; the men answering to Alvin, Alva, or Orion, pronounced Orrion, with the accent on the first. Whether they are indeed a race, or whether this is the form of degeneracy common to all back-woodsmen, they are at least known by a generic byword, as Poor Whites or Low-downers.
"Goodwin the botanist ? Then I know you!" he exclaimed. "Know all about you, that is. My father admired your work greatly. You knew him Professor Alvin Drake." I nodded. So he was Alvin Drake's son. Alvin, I knew, had died about a year before I had started on this journey. But what was his son doing in this wilderness? "Wondering where I came from?" he answered my unspoken question. "Short story.
Mulrady in regard to his son, who now succeeded to the paternal estate, sadly partitioned by relatives and lawsuits. The feminine Mulradys attended the funeral, in expensive mourning from Sacramento; even the gentle Alvin was forced into ready-made broadcloth, which accented his good-natured but unmistakably common presence. Mrs.
"This man is innocent!" she cried out, with a fierce gesture of protection, as if she were defending her young instead of her false lover. "I tell you he is innocent you must let him go! I am the one who stabbed Lot Gordon!" Alvin Mead stared; his heavy pink jaw lopped. "I tell you, you must let him go!" She released Burr from her arms and gave him a push towards the door.
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