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Not that I believe parson's stuff more 'n you; but grizzlin' your guts to fiddlestrings won't mend your fortune. Best to put your time into work, 'stead o' talk same as me an' Bonus. And as for my money, you knaw right well if theer'd been two thousand 'stead of wan, I'd have shared it with Chris." "Easy to say!
"Well, you are the best judge, Reuben, an' it's as well that it should come off when old Fiddlestrings is here, for a weddin' without a fiddle ain't much of a spree. By good luck, too, there's the lads from Buffalo Creek at the fort just now, so we'll muster strong. No, I wouldn't give much for a weddin' without a good dance not even yours, Reuben."
Even now, though you 'm fretting his guts to fiddlestrings because of waiting for 'e, he feels no malice no more than the caged rat feels 'gainst the man as be carrying him, anyway." "You're wrong there. He'd kill me to-morrow. He let me know it.
He went about saying that he pitied his father profoundly because he was a civilian and a non-combatant. Warde wrote to Charles Desmond; "If you mean to send Harry out, send him at once. He's fretting himself to fiddlestrings, doing no work, and causing others to do no work also." Sir William Symons' victory and death followed, and then the mortifying retreat of General Yule.
The occupation of old Fiddlestrings was gone. Even the huge pie was dismissed from the scene. The wedding guests crept quietly in, their gay costumes torn and covered with charcoal, and bearing other evidences of the recent conflict. They were very silent, too, and sad, for they were aware of the critical condition of the bridegroom.
The cook warmed up his gigantic pie, old Fiddlestrings re-tuned his home-made violin, and pretty little Loo at last appeared on the scene with two half-breed young women as bridesmaids, and two Indian females as backers-up.
Thus far he had listened, and now, according to his custom, argued on the popular side and bent his sail to the prevalent wind of opinion. "You say right, Miller. 'T is out of nature that a maid should fret her innards to fiddlestrings 'bout a green bwoy when theer's ripe men waitin' for her."
"I suppose you'll stand a quart for that, master?" "A quart for what, you vagabond? A quart because I've done myself up in heaps; a quart because I'm fit to pull myself into fiddlestrings?" "No," said the ostler; "because I've just put up the gentleman's horse." "What gentleman's horse?" "Why, the big-looking fellow with the white face, now in the parlour." "What, did he come on a horse, Sam?
You know what care is taken, nightly, in the composition of that scene, how the draperies are arranged for it; the lights turned off, and on; the fiddlestrings taxed for their utmost tenderness; the bassoons exhorted to a grievous solemnity. You don't believe, however, that any real soul of a Margaret ever appeared to any mortal in that manner? Here is an apotheosis also.
Devils they are when that's coming on them. Dark devilish appearance. Molly often told me feel things a ton weight. Scratch the sole of my foot. O that way! O, that's exquisite! Feel it myself too. Good to rest once in a way. Wonder if it's bad to go with them then. Safe in one way. Turns milk, makes fiddlestrings snap. Something about withering plants I read in a garden.
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