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Not a person in the whole countryside, except the two, knew of the affair, but Coonie remembered, and in his queer way tried to repay the man who had saved him. "Mornin'!" he called, somewhat crustily, as was his wont in opening a conversation. "How's things this mornin'?" Duncan had hurried into the house and now emerged with a dipperful of creamy buttermilk. Coonie drank it off in one long pull.
He goes to the sink, takes a dipperful of water from the pail and pouring it into a basin, washes his hands. COUNTY ATTORNEY: To be sure. MRS HALE: Those towels get dirty awful quick. Men's hands aren't always as clean as they might be. COUNTY ATTORNEY: Ah, loyal to your sex, I see. But you and Mrs Wright were neighbors. I suppose you were friends, too.
While she was doing this her eye fell on a piece of soap. At last she managed to draw a dipperful of clean fresh water, and glad enough she was; it felt so delicious, in fact, and she enjoyed it so much, she could not bear to tear herself away from it, until her mother's sharp voice brought her back to her duties again, and the rest of her toilet was finished more hurriedly.
"Sometimes I think daddy has no feeling for me. I reckon he thinks I'm a boy." "Hot water is debilitating, and very bad for the complexion," retorted her father. "Ice-cold water is what you need. And if you don't get out o' there in five minutes I'll dowse you with a dipperful."
I tried it once when I first got my fortune, but life became so monotonous and I got so fat that I had to start rehearsing in order to get back to my former self. "Say, I think the last dipperful made me feel better. Waiter, come out of your trance. Gee, but I do feel great. "Won't you all have a little something to eat. A steak smothered in pickles or something like that. Go as far as you like.
"She'll be rich when I've done with it. You're a lucky man ay, you're lucky." Rawley was about to tell the old man what the two thousand dollars was for, but a fresh wave of repugnance passed over him, and, hastily drinking another dipperful of water, he opened the door. He looked back. The old man was crouching forward, lapping milk from the great bowl, his beard dripping.
The cook lifted off the wooden lid of the rice-kettle, and Dong-Yung scooped up a dipperful of the snow-white kernels. On the tiny shelf before each god, the father and mother god of the household, Dong-Yung placed her offering.
Smoke, ominous and yellow, ballooned in huge volumes across the blue sky of the June day. "There ain't no bonfire in that, gents," declared a man. "That fire has got a start, and if it's in that slash from that logging operation, it ain't going to be put out with no pint dipperful." There was sudden hush in the big room.
Their numbers, their intoxication, gave them assurance. He was no longer the "boss." They were all just men now, and he was only one while they were two hundred. They began to laugh. The Italian with the harmonica struck up a fresh, jigging air. The heavy-booted feet took up the rhythm. A man climbed into the wagon and scooped up a dipperful of whisky, holding it aloft before he drank.
He made up a bucket of bran-mash, and said a dipperful of it every two hours, alternated with a drench with turpentine and axle-grease in it, would either knock my ailments out of me in twenty-four hours, or so interest me in other ways as to make me forget they were on the premises.
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