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Ha'n't yu borrered right and left, ha'n't you got inter debt high and low, to put a hape o' finery on yer mawther's back? Ha'n't yu moiled yerself, an' yu a dyin' woman, over her hid o' hair? Put her i' my Gladus's clo'es, an' see what yer Dora 'ud look like. Har, wi' her coloured shues, an' all!" "They was giv' her," the dying woman faintly protested.
Gee, Florette wouldn't wear their clo'es to a dog fight!" "Nor I," said Madame d'Avala; "I love dogs." "I tole Miss Eva she ought to put peroxide in the rinsin' water for her hair like Florette useter, but it made her mad. I b'lieve in a woman fixin' herself up all she can, don't you?" asked Freddy earnestly. "Indeed, I do! But tell me, who is Florette?"
Wife she's been layin' by egg money all spring to buy a swingin', silver-plated ice-pitcher, so he'll feel at home with sech things, an' capable of walkin' up to one an' tiltin' it unconcerned, which is more'n I can do to this day. I always feel like ez ef I ought to go home an' put on my Sunday clo'es befo' I can approach one of 'em.
Have you any baggage?" he asked of Berry, "Baggage? Dat I hab a whole handkercher full o' clean clo'es jest ez soon ez dey's been washed, yer know. Yah, yah!" "Where are you going?" "Whar's I gwine? Gwine West, ter grow up wid de kentry, Marse Hesden." "There, there, take your bundle and come along." "All right, Marse Hesden. Jest ez soon wuk fer you ez ennybody.
Wife did threaten to go herself an' make the teacher apologize for gittin' the little feller all sooted up an' sp'iln' his clo'es; but she thought it over, an' she decided thet she wouldn't disturb things ez long ez they was peaceful. An', after all, he didn't exac'ly send him down the chimbly nohow, though he provoked him to it.
"We'd be kind o' lost, now, without the little beggar," said the Boy, glancing sideways at Mac. "There's nothin' to be got by luggin' him off to Holy Cross," answered that gentleman severely. "Unless it's clo'es," said Potts. "He's all right in the clo'es he's got," said Mac, with the air of one who closes an argument. He stood up, worn and tired, and looked at his watch.
"Our white folks buried all dey silver in de groun' an' hid dey hosses in de deep gullies near de plantation. Even dey clo'es an' meat dey hide, an' de soljers didn' find nothin' 'cepin' de hosses, an' dey lef' dey tired ones an' tuk our fresh ones wid' em. Dey burned de fiel's an' orchards so our white folks couldn' he'p feed our soljers none.
Another prime favorite was Joe Murphy, Irish comedian and violinist, pleasing in both roles. I remember a singing comedian who bewailed his sad estate: "For now I have nothing but rags to my back, My boots scarce cover my toes, While my pants are patched with an old flour-sack, To jibe with the rest of my clo'es." The singing-school was pleasure-yielding, its greatest joy being incidental.
"Uncle Doc is going to take him out of de hospital next week, so as Aunt Betty can nurse him herself. She's awful kind, she is." "And how do you like the change?" asked Frank. "I feel like I was dreamin'," was Pep's answer. "It don't seem natural these clo'es and that nice home. It's like de times long ago." "Are you selling papers yet?" asked Richard. "No, sir.
"See him put on airs, Jim," said Micky, turning to his companion. "Where'd you get them clo'es?" "Never mind where I got 'em. Maybe the Prince of Wales gave 'em to me." "Hear him, now, Jim," said Micky. "Most likely he stole 'em." "Stealin' aint in my line." It might have been unconscious the emphasis which Dick placed on the word "my." At any rate Micky chose to take offence.
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