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Updated: June 20, 2025
Something had happened. "Tuk-tuk-tuk," clucked cook like an agitated hen. Sadie had her hand clapped to her cheek as though she had toothache. Hans's face was screwed up in the effort to understand. Only Godber's man seemed to be enjoying himself; it was his story. "What's the matter? What's happened?" "There's been a horrible accident," said Cook. "A man killed." "A man killed! Where? How? When?"
But he knew the exact spot, and he wanted his eyes to linger there a little before he rode straight for it. Now the great pulse in his throat leaped, and something like a sob came from him. But it was not a sob of unhappiness. He clucked to his horse and turned from the main road into a narrower one that led by the low house among the evergreens.
The good old beggar! . . . We slang each other, and all that . . . but there's too much between us ever to resent anything for long." "I know," said Redmond simply, "he told me himself last night." "Eh?" queried Yorke sharply. "My God! . . . Tchkk!" he clucked, and burying his hands in his face he gave vent to a fretful oath.
She shuddered and, covering her face, she let one bright eye peep round the protecting hand. "I saw that idiot boy wringing a hen's neck! And now," she ended, "I simply can't eat chicken." "Dear, dear!" John said, and clucked his tongue. "Dreadful confession of a young girl!" Lily Brent was laughing. "And to think I've wrung their necks myself!" "Have you? Ugh! Nasty!"
It was a large house, but one of broken fortunes; for the spacious offices were little used, their walls were damp and mossy, their windows broken, and their gates decayed. Fowls clucked and strutted in the stables; and the coach-houses and sheds were overrun with grass.
"We did take the ditch and got up to our axles in sand and sat foolishly there while Miss Elizabeth clucked up her horse and rattled victoriously away. "Jem will have a laugh when I write him this. He knows Miss Elizabeth of old. "But will Venice be saved?" 19th November 1917 "It is not saved yet it is still in great danger. But the Italians are making a stand at last on the Piave line.
As he slipped the reins over his horse's head, Marylyn remembered the meal she had abandoned and started homeward. The storekeeper, leading his mount, strode away beside her. Dallas clucked to the mules. "Ain't you comin'?" called her father. "W'y, my gal, you worked 'nough this mornin'." "I'll keep at it just a little longer," she answered.
We rested there, and after a while heard a turkey cluck. Copple had no turkey-caller, but he clucked anyhow. We heard answers. The flock evidently was trying to get together again, and some of them were approaching us. Copple continued to call. Then I appreciated how fascinating R.C. had found this calling game. Copple got answers from all around, growing closer. But presently the answers ceased.
"She got the rheumatism in her shoulder," Abe replied, "and she tries to get a girl by intelligent offices to help her out, but it ain't no use. It breaks her all up to get a girl, Mawruss. Fifteen years already she cooks herself and washes herself, and now she's got to get a girl, Mawruss, but she can't get one." Morris clucked sympathetically.
Again they plied the peasant woman with questions, but, like a wayward child, she colored up, fidgeted with her sabot, twisted the rope by which she held the cow that had fallen to grazing again, stared at the sportsmen, and scrutinized every article of clothing upon them; she gibbered, grunted, and clucked, but no articulate word did she utter.
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