United States or Djibouti ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Tommy turned and made for it. "Don't, Tommy," cried Clare. "Why not? I'm hungry," answered Tommy, "an' you see it's no use astin'!" He flew at the cart, but Clare caught and held him. "They ain't ours, Tommy," he said. "Then why don't you take one?" retorted Tommy. "That's why you shouldn't." "It's why you should, for then it 'ud be yours." "To take it wouldn't make it ours, Tommy."
But I ain't ever asted him, and whut's more, I never will. He ain't the kind you could go to him astin' him personal questions about his own private affairs. We-all here in town just accept him fur whut he is and sort of let him be. He's whut you might call a town character. His name is Mr. Dudley Stackpole."
"I know you can't afford to waste your valuable time even to answer a question." "Oh, that's all right," said Reyburn heartily. "Let me hear what the question is first. There may be no charge." "No," said Jane hastily, laying the bill firmly on the desk before him. "I shan't feel right astin' unless I know it's to be paid for."
He turned fiercely on the speaker, his momentary paralysis all vanished. "Ef I'm spokesman," he cried, "guess we don't need no buttin' in from Beasley Melford." Then he turned again quickly. "Astin' your pardon, miss," he added apologetically. "That's all right," said Joan, smiling amiably. "What are you 'spokesman' for?" The boy grinned foolishly. "Can't rightly say, missie."
By an' by he went to sleep, an' didn't know nothin' till somebody shuck his shoulder an' sez, 'Git up from here! What you doin' sleepin' here in the road? Then he went stumblin' 'long, with somebody holdin' his arm, an' he was took into a big, bright room, an' the doctor was lookin' at him an' astin' him questions.
The colored man scratched his kinky head, and glanced with a queer look at Tom. "How yo' all done guess dat?" he asked. "Answer my question," insisted Tom. "Yes, sah, he done did ask about yo', and de wuks, ebery now and den," Rad confessed. "But how yo' all knowed dat, Massa Tom, when I were a-tellin' yo' all about him astin' fo' mah mule, done gets me dat's what it suah does." "Never mind, Rad.
"Tillie!" commanded her father, "you come here!" The girl was very white as she obeyed him. But her eyes, as they met his, were not afraid. "It's easy seen why you're pale! I guess it ain't no pain in your side took from settin' up sewin' fur mom that's made you pale! Now see here," he sternly said, "what did you do somepin like this fur? Spendin' fifty cents without astin' me!"
It's positive ridiculous. Wot needs provin' is, who set that brand on McLagan's cattle? That's the question I'm astin'." "Psha! You make me sick!" cried Smallbones, his ferret-eyes dancing with rage. "Put your question. An' when you put it, who's got to get busy answerin'? I tell you it's up to Jim Thorpe to prove he didn't brand 'em. If he can't do that satisfact'ry, then he's got to swing."
They'll be no blessin' on it, now you mark." "Aunt Libby say whether she wanted stoned raisins?" asked Brother Littell, who was copying off the list on the order book. "I disremember, but you better send up the reg'lar raisins. Gittin' too many newfangled contraptions these days. They're a-callin' it a theayter right now, the Babtists is. What you astin' fer your eatin' apples? Whew!
I'm astin' yer help." Dan looked Nance over in troubled silence. "Is she sixteen yet?" he asked as impersonally as if she had not been present. "Yes, an' past. I knowed they'd be scarin' up that dangerous trade business on me next. How long before the foreman'll be here?" "Any time now," said Dan. "I'll take you into his office." With a sinking heart, Nance followed them into the crowded room.
Word Of The Day