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Updated: June 29, 2025
The man did not see this fifth member of their group until the elder woman caught it under the arms in her large hands, and, lifting it above her shoulder, said, looking far up the street: "O paypy, paypy, choost look de fla-ags! One, two, dtree, a tuzzent, a hundut, a dtowsant fla-ags!" Evidently the child did not know her well.
Schimmelpodt," Dick responded, as he started to get up. "What are you doing here." "Oh, choost vaiting to see bis you do the same thing," grunted the contractor. "It was great sport -not?" "Decidedly 'not," laughed Dick, stepping gingerly over a sidewalk that had been spread thinly with some sticky substance. "Can I help you up, Mr. Schimmelpodt?"
"Vell, Rolf, it's goood to see ye back. It's choost vat I vented. Hi, Marta, I told it you, yah. I say, now I hope ze good Gott send Rolf. Ach, how I am shpoil!" Yes, indeed. The hay was ready; the barley was changing.
I am choost like an ox for three days, und chew grass. Prairie grass, is it?" "Mo pas capab', Michie," said the cook, with a terrified roll of his white eyes. "Herr Gott!" cried Swein Poulsson, "I am red face. Aber Herr Gott, I thank thee I am not a nigger. Und my hair is bristles, yes. Let us in the kitchen go."
"Now, I want you to notice," he said, "that I did nothing to call out the old lady's rush at me. I'd 'a' hit her, sure, if she'd 'a' clinched me again. I don't believe in striking a woman, but she was after my hide for the time bein', and I can't stand two such clutches in the same place. You don't blame me, I hope." "No. You done choost ride." "What do you suppose the old woman went for me for?"
"Mark you," I charged him, "your wife must never know a word of this!" "Eh? No" and the next instant the sick woman across the way was filling all his thought: "Mine Gott! she rice oop scaredt in t'e bedt, choost so!" and up he would start. Then as I pressed him down "Mine Gott! I vould not go in, if I dhink she would do dot. Hmm! Hmm! I am sorry! Undt I tidt not t'e mawdt get. "Hmm!
"Right in de bekinning o' summer time! Vell, vell, vell! And you told me Mrs. Richling is a sentsible voman! Vell, I don't belief dat I efer see a young voman w'at aint de pickest kind o' fool apowt her hussbandt. Vell, vell! And she comin' down heah 'n' choost kittin' all your money shpent, 'n' den her mudter kittin' vorse 'n' she got 'o go pack akin!" "Why, Mrs.
De most exquisite blush hangings, and a gas-fire, choost as natural " "Oh, hang it, Shepson, do you call that a studio? It's like a manicure's parlour or a beauty-doctor's. By George," broke off Stanwell, "and that's just what he is!" "A peauty-doctor?" "Yes oh, well, you wouldn't see," murmured Stanwell, mentally storing his epigram for more appreciative ears.
One day Monsieur Vigo's young Creole clerk stood shrugging his shoulders in the doorway. I stopped. "By tam!" Swein Poulsson was crying to the clerk, as he waved a worthless scrip above his head. "Vat is money?" This definition the clerk, not being a Doctor Johnson, was unable to give offhand. "Vat are you, choost?
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