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Updated: May 11, 2025
There's going to be a beautiful little fight when those two birds meet, and that college girl's going to see it. I wish I There's the other one again; they get closer each time! Didn't you hear it?" The wife replied, mainly to herself, that she did not; that if he had her backache he wouldn't hear a brass band, and that her next walk would be by herself.
The invalid shivered, then said more haltingly than before: "I don't like to think of England, it makes me sad; but Selincourt is a pretty name a very pretty name indeed!" Mr. Selincourt is Indiscreet When Katherine reached home that night after doing the "backache portage" it seemed to be the last straw to her burden of endurance to be told that Mr. Selincourt had arrived.
He professed a knowledge of medicine and brought a bottle, a bolus or a plaster, whichever he deemed best, whenever any of us complained of cold or cough, of headache or backache or any ailment whatever. When he left we all received from him a parting gift. Mine was a handsome, expensive, red-felt chest protector.
"I'm downright glad we've got to do the backache portage to-day, because, as we can't be in two places at once, I shan't be found at the store if anyone comes to see me special," he said, winking up at a bluebird which sat on a bough above his head. The bird gave a little chirp, whisked its tail, and then stayed motionless, as if much interested in the talk.
But the Tree had a backache from mere longing, and the backache is just as bad for a tree as the headache for a person. At last the candles were lighted. What a brilliance, what splendor! The Tree trembled so in all its branches that one of the candles set fire to a green twig, and it was scorched, but one of the young ladies hastily put the fire out. Now the Tree might not even tremble.
To every case that comes to the neurologist there are a hundred that explain their symptoms as "stomach trouble", "backache", etc., who remain well enough to carry on, and who think their pains and aches inevitably wrapped with the lot of woman. It will be seen, upon reading these cases, that a rather pessimistic attitude is taken toward some of them.
There was no egotism left in Nancy now, she was only a busy woman in a world of busy women. She knew backache and headache, and moods of weary irritation. The cut of her gowns, the little niceties of table-service or of children's clothing no longer concerned her. She merely wanted her family comfortable, fed and housed and clothed, and well.
To me. How much? What key? Six sharps? F sharp major, Ben Dollard said. Bob Cowley's outstretched talons griped the black deepsounding chords. Must go prince Bloom told Richie prince. No, Richie said. Yes, must. Got money somewhere. He's on for a razzle backache spree. Much? He seehears lipspeech. One and nine. Penny for yourself. Here. Give him twopence tip. Deaf, bothered.
Let him resist the characterlessness which often goes with being poor. Let him insist on respecting the condition where he lives. The barrenness and ignobleness of the more usual laborer's life consist in the fact that it is moved by no such ideal inner springs. The backache, the long hours, the danger, are patiently endured for what?
In the last of these he was very unfortunate, for his heels, in their descent, chanced to hit and overturn a churn full of buttermilk! When Aunt Katy entered she found Bob bemoaning the backache, which his mother had unsparingly given him! Aunt Judy herself, having cleared away the buttermilk, by sweeping it out of doors, was waiting eagerly to know "if Marster William done axed arter her."
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