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"P'raps not," suggested Poopy, with a look of deep wisdom, as she gazed on the upturned face. "Anyhow, we must haul him out of the water," said Corrie, whose chest heaved with the effort he made to repress his tears. Catching up one of Bumpus's huge hands, the boy ordered Alice to grasp the other.
Bumpus's last cry before being smothered was, "Down with the black varmints!" and Corrie's last shout was, "Hooray!" Thus fell despite the undignified manner of their fall a couple of as great heroes as were ever heard of in the annals of war; not excepting even those of Homer himself.
But all Bumpus's fears were useless, for those aboard the little motorboat that had really come all the way from the Soo, starting earlier than Thad and his five companions, heard the combined shouts, and signaled that they would head in without delay.
Wiley possessed the gift of gathering recondite bits of news, he had confidence in his topics and in his manner of dealing with them; and Edward, pretending to be entertained, went so far in his politeness as to ask Mr. Wiley if he had had supper. "I don't care if I sample one of Mis' Bumpus's doughnuts," Mr.
They elected themselves to the offices of prosecutor and judge, as well as taking the trouble to act the part of jurymen and witnesses. Poor John Bumpus's doom was sealed before the trial began. They had prejudged the case, and only went through the form to ease their own consciences and to fulfil their promise to the widow. To all this there was but one coarsely-expressed answer, "It is a lie!"
This urchin crept on his brown little knees under the window of Bumpus's apartment, got on his brown and dirty little tip-toes, placed his brown little hands on the sill, hauled his brown and half-naked little body up by sheer force of muscle, and peeped into the room with his large and staring brown eyes, the whites of which were displayed to their full extent.
"And I 'd jus' like to see a man inside of a whale a-setting under a morning-glory vine." "The whale vomicked him up," said Jimmy. "What sorter thing is a octopus like what y' all say is in Miss Pollie Bumpus's head?" asked Billy. "'Tain't a octopus, it's a polypus," explained Frances, "'cause she's named Miss Pollie. It's a someping that grows in your nose and has to be named what you's named.
I've played in 'Amlet, yer honour, along with Octavius Bumpus's travellin' theatre, and I can nail a made-up livin' ghost in a minnit; but this ghost didn't look made up. There was no blood, yer honour; she looked as if she 'ad bin waccinated forty times." "And were the movements of her legs and arms natural?" "No j'ints, Master Blake. She looked like a wooden figger without proper j'ints!
This urchin crept on his brown little knees under the window of Bumpus's apartment, got on his brown and dirty little tiptoes, placed his brown little hands on the sill, hauled his brown and half-naked little body up by sheer force of muscle, and peeped into the room with his large and staring brown eyes, the whites of which were displayed to their full extent.
Bumpus's last cry before being smothered was, "Down with the black varmints!" and Corrie's last shout was, "Hooray!" Thus fell despite the undignified manner of their fall a couple of as great heroes as were ever heard of in the annals of war; not excepting even those of Homer himself!
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