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Updated: June 10, 2025
"You g'way," Herbert returned, unmoved; and, without condescending to give her a glance, he set down the magnifying-glass, and with a pencil wrote something profoundly entomological in a soiled memorandum book upon the table. "Run away, Flor'nce. Run away somewheres and play." Florence approached. "'Play'!" she echoed tartly.
Rufe had not far to fall, but Byers was a tall man. His arms swayed like the sails of a windmill in the effort to recover his balance. He was in danger of toppling into the pit, and in fact only caught himself on his knees at its verge. "Ye torment!" he roared angrily, as he struggled to his feet. "G'way from hyar, or I'll skeer ye out'n yer wits!"
I whispered. "Indians. I'm on guard. G'way!" he whispered back. "Is this the fort?" I searched for a foothold. "Yep. This is the middle-watch. What'd you butt in for?" I scrambled up and looked. Just below me, lying on a soft bed of mouldering tinder wood and leaves, was Benvenuto Cellini Carville, simulating profound slumber. As I clung there, a somewhat undignified figure, he opened one eye.
Where you going NOW? Going to run over that snag? 'Pull her DOWN! Don't you hear me? Pull her DOWN! 'There she goes! JUST as I expected! I TOLD you not to cramp that reef. G'way from the wheel! So I always had a rough time of it, no matter whose watch it was; and sometimes it seemed to me that Ritchie's good-natured badgering was pretty nearly as aggravating as Brown's dead-earnest nagging.
An' des as soon as I felt like I could bring myse'f to it, I well Dey warn't no use losin' time, an' so I tol' you, missy, dat de kitchen need' white-washin'." "And so you sent for him and proposed to him, did you?" "P'opose to who, Mis' Gladys? I'd see Pete in de sinkin' swamp 'fo' I'd p'opose to him!" "Then how did you manage it, pray?" "G'way, Mis' Gladys!
I done been up to Mis' Nannie, an' she say g'way an' not pester her she busy. Company came, and there was dreadful confusion nobody knew what to do about anything and still Aunt Nannie was locked in! At last came dinner-time, and everybody else came.
The Hon. Salmon P. Chase, Secretary of the Treasury, was engaged with the President when Phoebe presented herself at the door of the executive office. John Hay tried in vain to persuade her to wait a few minutes. Phoebe brushed the young diplomat aside with scant ceremony. "G'way fum here, Boy!" she laughed. "Miss Ma'y sent me ter fetch 'im right away. An' I gwine ter fetch 'im!"
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