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Updated: September 16, 2025
Good forty miles they had gone without flagging once, when Aunt Ri, pointing to a house on the right hand of the road, the only one they had seen for many miles, said: "We'll hev to sleep hyar. I donno the road beyant this. I allow they're gone ter bed; but they'll hev to git up 'n' take us in. They're used ter doin' it. They dew consid'able business keepin' movers. I know 'em.
"This young man wass very violent, Hipps," he muttered jerkily. "I donno s'no use seems." "Are we beat, Chief?" "I don't like this word 'beat. Mus' be a way." He paused for a moment to recover his breath then turned to Laurence. "This Miss Craven, she hass not arrifed yet?" "She's here. Came five minutes ago." "She know how we stand, yes?" Hipps nodded.
"Well, an' he hed sort of an odd-number way about him, too. He went along the street like he didn't belong. I donno if you know what I mean, but he was always takin' in the tops o' buildin's an' lookin' at the roads an' behavin' like he noticed the way you don't when you live in a town. Yes, Ebenezer Goodnight went around like he see things for the first time. An' somehow he never could join in.
Joe can lick him with one hand, can't you, Joe?" "I donno. I don' want fight me," said Joe. "No, I know you don't want to, but you could, couldn't you?" persisted Mop. Joe shrugged his shoulders. "Ha, I told you so. Hurrah for my man," cried Mop, clapping Joe on the back and pushing him toward Larry. Ben began to scent sport.
"We know all the knots you can show us, Ben, and perhaps a good many more," grunted Percival. "The boat was tied all right, but " "Wha' was yo' goin' to say, sah?" asked Bucephalus. "Some one untied it," said Percival. "Who brought it back, Buck?" "Ah donno, sah, Ah didn' saw dem, othahwise Ah could identify de pussons. Have yo' any ideah as to deir pussonality you'se'f, sah?"
"You may very well say that, Aunt Ri," laughed the Agent, complacently. "It is the most troublesome Agency in the whole list, and the least satisfactory." "Wall, I allow it mought be the least satisfyin'," rejoined the indefatigable Aunt Ri; "but I donno whar the trouble comes in, ef so be's thar's no more kin be done than yer wuz er tellin'." And she looked honestly puzzled.
They could not have put this in words, but they felt it. "Donno, how 'tis," they said, "but Mis' Kinney, even when she's closest to ye, an' a doin' for ye all the time, don't seem just like a mortal woman." "It's easy enough to know how 'tis," replied Angy Plummer, once, in a moment of unguarded frankness, "Mis Kinney is a kind o' daughter o' God, somthin' as Jesus Christ was His Son.
He was sitting by the side of the trail helplessly, waiting for someone to come along. Tad hastily slipped from his saddle, running over to the burro. "Which foot is he lame in?" asked the boy. "Donno," answered the Mexican. The boy led the little animal back and forth several times. "It's the off hind foot," he announced. "Off?" queried Chunky. "He doesn't seem to have a foot off."
I donno, if it was any other year, as she'd be planning any different." "No," said Mis' Winslow, thoughtfully, "Mary won't do anything. But we could." Mis' Bates's forehead took alarm the alarm of the sympathetic hearer who is challenged to be doer. "Do?" she repeated. "You can't go back on the paper at this late day.
"Dear friends," he said, "dear friends ..." And then, "Lord God," he prayed abruptly, "show me what is that in my hand thy tool where I had looked for my sword!" "I donno," Calliope said, as, on her return, we talked about Ellen Ember, "I guess I kind o' believe in craziness." Calliope's laugh often made me think of a bluebird's note, which is to say, of the laughter of a child.
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