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Made up my mind I'd have a little talk in private with you you understand. The boys hain't got no reason to suspicion you care anything about politics, have they?" "None whatever." "You don't pay no attention to what they say?" "None." You hear it?" "Sometimes I can't help it." "Ex'actly! You hear it." "I told you I couldn't help it." "Want you should vote right when the time comes," said Bijah.
In the old days when there were a lot of little railroads, he and Bijah Bixby and a few others used to make something out of them, but since the consolidation, and Mr. Flint's presidency, Job stays at home. They tell me he runs Leith yet. You'd better go over and fix it up with him." A somewhat sarcastic smile of satisfaction was playing over Mr. Flint's face as he listened to the senator's words.
Kingsbury had died a year before. His wife had closed the old homestead and gone to live with her daughter, and the farm had been for sale ever since. 'Bijah sprang over the ditch and came sprawling into the orchard. When he had picked himself up, Sandy was nowhere to be seen. The loneliness of the deserted farm and the soberness of approaching evening were all about him.
They remained in sight of the wigwam, exhausting every device for wearing away the time, and Joe's watch was frequently consulted. Time and patience wore away together. "There," said Charlie, at last, "we've waited long enough; we ought to wake her up now." "It might make her crazy again to see such a lot of us, and I I don't like to," said Benny. "I'll go 'n ask 'Bijah what to do."
But all dem things ain't 'nuf ter make apple-trees grow in my gyardin like as dey was corn-field peas." "Dat's so," said 'Bijah, reflectively. "Dat's too much to spec' ob any man. But how's you gwine ter sell de apples if you ain't got 'em?" "I's got ter git em," said Grandison. "Dar's apples 'nuf growin' roun' an' not so fur away dat I can't tote 'em ter my house in a bahsket.
The storekeeper's attention was next distracted by the sight of one who wandered slowly but ceaselessly from group to group, kicking up his heels behind, and halting always in the rear of the speakers. Needless to say that this was our friend Mr. Bijah Bixby, who was following out his celebrated tactics of "going along by when they were talkin' sly." Suddenly Mr. Bixby's eye alighted on Mr.
"Hain't looked through my clothes yet," said Bijah, his face screwed up tighter than ever. "N-never look through my clothes till I git home, Chester, it hain't safe." It has become painfully evident that Mr. Bixby is that rare type of man who can sit down under the enemy's ramparts and smoke him out.
For these latter, also, and for the wavering there is a claw-hammer on the marble-topped mantel wielded by Mr. Bijah Bixby, pro tem chief of staff or of the hammer, for he is self-appointed and very useful. He opens the mysterious packing cases which come up to the Railroad Room thrice a week, and there is water to be had in the bath-room and glasses. Mr.
He always said a dog's capital was all in his reputation." "You 'll have to be dreadful careful an' not lose him," urged Mrs. Topliff. "Yes, sir; he 's a proper coon dog as ever walked the earth, but he's terrible weak-minded about followin' 'most anybody. 'Bijah used to travel off twelve or fourteen miles after him to git him back, when he wa'n't able.
Made up my mind I'd have a little talk in private with you you understand. The boys hain't got no reason to suspicion you care anything about politics, have they?" "None whatever." "You don't pay no attention to what they say?" "None." You hear it?" "Sometimes I can't help it." "Ex'actly! You hear it." "I told you I couldn't help it." "Want you should vote right when the time comes," said Bijah.
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