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Pretty well for one night's work, ain't it? and for me too, that's so fond of the dear little critturs, I wouldn't hurt a hair of their head, if I could help it, to save my soul alive. What a spot o' work! "What the plague do people mean here by askin' a mob to their house, and invitin' twice as many as can get into it?
"Mebbe in that outfit of he-men you're expectin' to hit the trail for to-morrow they'll wrop you up in cotton an' not let a hundred-an'-thirty-pound giant jump you." "I ain't askin' it of 'em," Bandy retorted. "I can look out for myself an' then some. As for this sprout who thinks he's so gosh-mighty, I'll jus' say one thing. Some o' these days I'll settle with him proper." He turned as he spoke.
And when we located it, after a good hour of askin' questions, and payin' car fares and wearin' out shoe leather, 'twas a Chinese laundry. "'Well, I says, sarcastic, 'here we be. Which one of the heathen do you think is Jimmie? If he had an inch or so more of upper lip, I'd gamble on that critter with the pink nighty and the baskets on his feet.
"Lordy massy! boys: ye never will be done askin' questions. Why, how should I know?" "Ye see, boys," said Sam Lawson, as we were gathering young wintergreen on a sunny hillside in June, "ye see, folks don't allers know what their marcies is when they sees 'em.
Hampton if it is possible." "Sure an' she can thet. He's been askin' after her, an' thet pretty face would kape any man in gud spirits, I 'm thinkin'. Step roight in, miss." She held the door ajar, but Naida paused, glancing back at her motionless companion, a glint of unshed tears showing for the first time in her eyes. "Are you not coming also?" "No, Miss Naida.
The teamster called to Crawford. "Here's another load o' grub, boss. Miss Joyce she rustled up them canteens you was askin' for." Crawford stepped over to the wagon. "Don't reckon we'll need the canteens, Hank, but we can use the grub fine. The fire's about out." "That's bully. Say, I got news for you, Mr. Crawford. Brad Steelman's dead. They found him in his house, shot plumb through the head.
He was red-faced and panting, but there was a curious air of dignified importance in his bearing. Dorinda's lips shut tightly. "Well, Lute," said I, "where have you been?" Lute struggled for breath. "Don't ask me where I've been!" he gasped. "Don't waste no time askin' ME questions. Get your hat on, Ros! Get your hat on this minute! Where did I put that? Where in time did I put it?"
She shook off the palsy that held her and almost hurled her soft young body at him. "Don't!" she begged. "Don't!" Cold fingers clutched at his wrist, dragged down the barrel of the forty-five. "He had it comin'. He was askin' for it," the outlaw said. He spoke huskily, still looking down at the crumpled figure. The girl felt in him the slackness of indecision. Should he shoot again and make sure?
Pat howled thet law was law, an' he was goin' to lay down the law. Sure it 'peared to me thet Pat was daid set to arrest the first man he could find excuse to. "Then he cooled down a bit an' was askin' questions about the wounded Greaser when Gene Stewart come in. Whenever Pat an' Gene come together it reminds me of the early days back in the 'seventies. Jest naturally everybody shut up.
But the gravy you made, Mirandy, that couldn't be better. Didn't you see how the men kept askin' for it to be passed? And they've et up all the summer squash and all the cream-pie. Taste some of these plum preserves, Mis' Brown, and don't let me forget to send some to your little girls: I remember how well they like 'em. This cake is real light and good, but I was afraid it would fall.
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