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Updated: June 5, 2025
"Goin' a-travelin'?" asked Joel, with a grin. "Not this morning." "I wish I had a hundred dollars!" continued Joel, surveying Harry sharply. "I'd make a journey out West. Say, Harry, did you ever have a hundred dollars in your pocket?" "Yes." "Maybe you've got it now?" "Where should I get it?" demanded Harry. "I do'no. Jest empty your pockets, and le'me see how much you've got."
What is it she calls 'em? Oh, yes, I remember. She says as how her darling is very VERVASHUS! What that means I do'no, but one thing I'm SURE of. If her youngster is THAT, our Miss Polly just AIN'T!"
It's jest like v'yagin'; yew do'no' sumtimes what's to pay with a compass; it'll go all p'ints to once; mebbe somebody's got a hatchet near by, or some lubber's throwed a chain down by the binnacle, or some darned thing's got inside on't, or it's shipped a sea an' got rusted; but there's allers the Dipper an' the North Star; they're allers true to their bearin's, and you can't go to Davy Jones's locker for want of a light'us so long's they're ahead.
I do'no' how ter say it! Heigh-o-dingerty-dingty-dum!" He had done the usual thing. Whenever embarrassed Gyp took to the woods. Uncle John looked after the flying figure, and laughed when Gyp paused in the middle of the field to turn a somersault before disappearing in the woods.
"I never kep' none of mine up-stairs, but there's no knowin' these days of fancy stock. No, young man! if there's anybody for you to thank, it's that young woman. Now there's a gal what's her name? I didn't gather it that day." "Vesta Miss Vesta Blyth." "I want to know! my fust wife's name was Vesty; Vesty Barlow she was; yes, sir. I do'no' but I liked her best of any of 'em.
You see they was doin' fine, and father he went off to salt for a spell, so's to see'f 'twouldn't stop a complaint he's got, I do'no' but it's a spine in the back, makes him kinder' faint by spells, so's he loses his conscientiousness all to once; so he left the chickens 'n' things for Melindy to boss, 'n' she got somethin' else into her head, 'n' she left the door open one night, and them ten turkeys they up and run away, I'xpect they took to the woods, 'fore Melindy brought to mind how't she hadn't shut the door.
"I'd like ter know one thing," she continued, "an' that is whether the boy is 'specially bright as his father thinks, or whether he's a little lackin' as I think, an' I do'no who's ter decide." Up the road she trudged, and as she turned the corner, a most surprising sight caused her to stop and ejaculate. "Land er the livin'! What ails him naow?"
Bemont's, a brown house in a cluster of maples; the door-yard full of chickens, turkeys, ducks, and geese. Kate took the reins, and I knocked. Mrs. Bemont herself appeared, wiping her red, puckered hands on a long brown towel. "Can you let me have some of your young turkeys, ma'am?" said I, insinuatingly. "Well, I do'no'; want to eat 'em or raise 'em?" "Both, I believe," was my meek answer.
Nevertheless the SPRITE was now so distant that the loom of the great seas on the horizon swallowed her from view, save when she rose on the crest of some mighty billow. "Well, what is he doing 'way out there then?" challenged Mr. Smith's friend with some asperity. "Do'no," replied the riverman, "but whatever it is, it's all right as long as Buck Marsh is at the wheel."
'An' there's your chair waitin' for you beside the fire, Mr. Irons, this month an' more a cowld evening and we all wondherin' what in the wide world was gone widg ye this I do'no how long. 'Thank ye, Ma'am a pipe and a glass o' punch. Irons was always a man of few words, and his laconics did not strike Mistress Molloy as anything very strange.
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