Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 16, 2025
Yo're afraid o' mae, Ally, because yo've 'eard I haven't always been as sober as I might bae; but yo're nat 'aalf as afraid o' mae, droonk or sober, as yo' are of yore awn faather. Yo' dawn't think I s'all bae 'aalf as 'ard an' crooil to yo' as yore faather is. She doosn't, Mr. Cartaret, an' thot's Gawd's truth." "I protest," said the Vicar. "Yo' stond baack, sir. It's for 'er t' saay."
And as it would not suit him to walk far inland, he has arranged for the interview at a poor little place called the Thorny Wick, or the Stubby Wick, or something of that sort. I thought it was due to you, madam, to explain the reason of my entering, even for a moment " "Ah dawn't care. Sitha they mah fettle thee there, if thow's fondhead enew."
I been try evva since meck out what he say. Yass. An' I jis meck it out! He say, 'Watch out, watch out, 'Mian Roussel and dat book-fellah dawn't put op jawb on you. Well, I'm a fool, but I know. You put op jawb on me; I know. But dass all right I don't take no book." He laughed with the rest, scratched his tipsy head, and backed out through the pieux.
"Stephen, then," holding out his hand, "sence old times dawn't shame yoh, Stephen. That's hearty, now. It's only a wured I want, but it's immediate. Concernin' Joe Yare, Lois's father, yoh know? He's back." "Back? I saw him to-day, following me in the mill. His hair is gray? I think it was he." "No doubt. Yes, he's aged fast, down in the lock-up; goin' fast to the end. Feeble, pore-like.
"Stephen, then," holding out his hand, "sence old times dawn't shame yoh, Stephen. That's hearty, now. It's only a wured I want, but it's immediate. Concernin' Joe Yare, Lois's father, yoh know? He's back." "Back? I saw him to-day, following me in the mill. His hair is gray? I think it was he." "No doubt. Yes, he's aged fast, down in the lock-up; goin' fast to the end. Feeble, pore-like.
"Well, stuffing birds better than ever, I suppose." "Naw," he looked around upon his work, "I dawn't think. I dunno if I stoff him quite so good like biffo'." Another pause. Then, "I think I mek out what I do wid doze money now." "Indeed," said I, and noticed that his face was averted from his wife.
But we dawn't got whittle no mo'." He pointed to the model, then threw his strong arms akimbo and asked, "You know what is dat?" "Naw," replied the father, "I dunno. Can't hitch nuttin' to dat t'ing you got dare; she too small for a rat. What she is, Claude?" A yet stronger hope and courage lighted Claude's face.
Dawn't ondstand dat little fellah; he love flower' like he was a gal." "He ought to go to school," said the ex-governor. And Sosthène, half to himself, responded in a hopeless tone: "Yass." Neither Sosthène nor any of his children had ever done that. War it was. The horsemen grew scarce on the wide prairies of Opelousas.
"Yass, wat' in bucket, yass. Den no man dawn't keep nut'n'. Dawn't own nut'n' he got." "Ah! sir, there is a better owning than to own. 'Tis giving, dear friend; 'tis giving. To get? To have? That is not to own. The giver, not the getter; the giver! he is the true owner. Live thou not to get, but to give." Bonaventure's voice trembled; his eyes were full of tears.
"He was to have got here three days ago," said Mary, shutting the glass and gazing in anxious abstraction across the prairie. The Spanish Creole grunted. "When win' change, he goin' start. He dawn't start till win' change. Win' keep ligue dat, he dawn't start 't all."
Word Of The Day
Others Looking