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Updated: May 11, 2025
"They can never take the ramp by frontal attack! The right thing to do is hold the flanks, and wither 'em as they cone!" "Monty's orders!" I said, "and I've got to be going." "Damn that fellow Didums!" he grumbled. "All right. But it's my belief he's turning a classy little engagement into a bloody brawl! Cut along! I'll pick my hundred and climb down there." Cutting along was not so easy.
The newspaper man looked on and listened through a film. The brazen patter of his young friend rippled on. A growing gamin coarseness in her talk with a nervous, restless twitter underneath. Her dark child eyes, perverse under their touch of black paint, swung eagerly through the crowd. Her talk of Johns, of dumb times and moldy times, of classy times and classy memories varied only slightly.
"Lady says we don't live there," he explained to Mrs. Sparrow. There was silence for a while. "Not what I call a classy street," commented Mrs. Sparrow. "If it were not for that terrible tired feeling of mine," said Mr. Sparrow, "blame if I wouldn't build a house of my own." "Perhaps," said Mrs. Sparrow, " I have heard it said that a little bit of work, now and then, does you good."
Whoever he is he certainly does things in a classy way. Maybe he's a newspaper man to write like that." Crowder opined he was not. He could hardly imagine one of his fellows even secure in his anonymity permitting his pen such florid license. "When you break through the dark secret let me know.
And you a dead ringer for the real thing in a classy sport yourself!" "My dear son !" My dear son waved his fine hand, and chuckled in his red beard. "Would you back down if this was your call?
Take a look," and he lifts the flap at the end. "What the deuce!" says Whitey. "Sawdust," says Mike, "just plain, everyday sawdust. I had it analyzed, no dope, no nothing. Now tell me, would anyone but a nut do a thing like that?" We both agreed nobody but a nut would; also we remarks in chorus that Mr. Donahue is some classy sleuth, which he don't object to at all.
Rooms reserved, and a companion waiting there for you." "A companion!" exclaimed Maggie. "What for?" "To teach you the fine points of manners, and to help you buy clothes. She's a classy bird all right. I advertised and picked her out of a dozen who applied." "Barney!" breathed Maggie. She was silent a dazed moment, then asked: "Just just what am I going to do?"
Went t' Germany, knowin' that it would feel homelike there, an' we took in all the swell baden, and chased up the Jungfrau sa-a-ay, that's a classy little mountain, that Jungfrau. Mother, she had some swell time I guess. She never set down except for meals, and she wrote picture postals like mad. But sa-a-ay, girl, was I lonesome! Maybe that trip done me good. Anyway, I'm livin' yet.
One of Florine's Ancestors on Mother's Side happened to be on Earth at the time of the Revolution, and Father often spoke of a Second Cousin who had been in Congress until the District tumbled to him. Because of this Current of Blue Blood racing in her Veins, Florine was supposed to be a trifle Classy and Mother was always afraid that she might get Thumb-Marks on the Family Escutcheon.
"Show 'em," said the newspaper man, "that we've got a society of our own out here in the middle west, as classy as any in America, Newport, Bar Harbor, or Lenox." He advised Lake Como for a start, but Milly, for reasons of her own, preferred Mackinac, then a popular resort on the cold water of Lake Superior.
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