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Updated: May 25, 2025
Mamma says things like forgetting the screwdriver are your ex-eccen-tricks. Is this what you've been thinking about a nice eccen-trick or the other kind?" Jed slowly shook his head. "I I don't know," he groaned. "I dasn't believe There, there! That's enough of my tricks. How's Petunia's hair curlin' this mornin'?"
Then he says: "You want to leave me. Don't try to deny it." We didn't know what to say, so we held in and didn't say nothing at all. He went aft and set down, but he couldn't seem to git that thing out of his mind. Every now and then he would rip out something about it, and try to make us answer him, but we dasn't.
He was silent awhile, and I knew what was happening he was losing his temper. And I knew he would presently close the session with the same old argument that was always his stay and his support in time of need; the same old argument, the one I couldn't answer, because I dasn't the argument that I was an ass, and better shut up. He delivered it, and I obeyed.
There ain't anybody thinks you are alive." "Then I'm saved, I'm saved, sure! I'll go home. They'll hide me and save my life. You keep mum. Swear you'll keep mum swear you'll never, never tell on me. Oh, boys, be good to a poor devil that's being hunted day and night, and dasn't show his face!
He might tell who told him; then the king and the duke would make it warm for me. Shall I go, private, and tell Mary Jane? No I dasn't do it. Her face would give them a hint, sure; they've got the money, and they'd slide right out and get away with it. If she was to fetch in help I'd get mixed up in the business before it was done with, I judge. No; there ain't no good way but one.
Gee, I hope Germany has to give Alsace back to France just for his sake!" Mr. Conne laughed. "Most of the people there stick up for France in their hearts, only they dasn't show it. He gave me this button; it's made out of a cannon, and it means the French people there got to help you." "Hmm hang on to it." "You bet I'm going to.
At Thurstane's reprimand he trotted close up to him with exactly the air of a circus Jocko who expects a whipping, but who hopes to escape it by grinning. "Why haven't you fired?" repeated his commander. "Liftinint, I dasn't," answered Sweeny, in the rapid, jerking, almost inarticulate jabber which was his usual speech.
For the space of a quarter of an hour the hide-out ate hurriedly in silence, his food and drink guarded between his soaked forearms like an animal fearful lest its prey be stolen. Holcomb watched him the while with now and then a friendly word. When he had finished eating, the cavernous eyes looked up gratefully. "I dasn't risk it until to-night, Billy," he resumed.
"You dasn't hurt a fly when he is around. Lucky for the monk that the man happened to stop in front of his house this mornin'. Come on, lets see what they do with it." The children trooped off after him, and Phil and Elsie watched them down the street until they were out of sight, pushing and tripping at each other's heels in their eagerness to follow.
But at last he replied, "I want to go home, but I dasn't." The band of travelers all laughed at this; whereupon the little boy looked at all of them, one after another. He still had his finger in his mouth, where he kept crooking it and uncrooking it. Then Cinderella asked: "Why dare you not go home?" The little boy lowered his eyes until they rested on the ground. "Because I dasn't," he said.
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