Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: April 18, 2025
"It's my tame garnder," said Mr. Gammon, apologetically. "He was lonesome to be left outside." A fuzzy little cur that had been sitting between Mr. Tate's earth-stained boots ran at the gander and yapped shrilly. The big bird curved his neck, bristled his feathers, and hissed. "Kick 'em out of here!" snapped the Cap'n, indignantly.
"Walked," replied Mr. Gammon, dejectedly. "My hoss is bewitched, too. Can't get him out of the stable." "We'll take you along with us," was Hiram's kindly proffer. "Him and that gander?" protested the Cap'n. "I can set in behind with the garnder under my arm," urged Mr. Gammon, meekly. The Cap'n came around the table and angrily twitched the rope off Mr. Gammon's neck.
"Any man that's soft-headed enough to have a gander followin' him round everywhere he goes ought to have a guardeen appointed," suggested Mr. Tate, acidulously, after he had recovered his dog and had cuffed his ears. "My garnder is a gent side of any low-lived dog that ever gnawed carrion," retorted Mr. Gammon, his funereal gloom lifting to show one flash of resentment.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking