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Updated: June 15, 2025
"You've got me, ma'am Jenny. I give in, I throw up the fight. That irrigation project now Chuckie's brother can have anything of mine he asks for. Only there's one thing you've got to make that yearling say 'Granddad' when he talks to me." "O-oh!" cooed Genevieve. "To think you feel that way towards him! Of course he shall say it. And I Will you not allow me to make it 'Daddy'?"
"Your father read it to me." "Kind of him, wasn't it? What do you think of it?" "What I think isn't important. What do you think of it?" "Nosey, eh?" he jeered. "If it won't inconvenience you any, I'll keep what I think of it to myself. But it's plain to me now that when you caught me tryin' to guzzle your granddad you thought I belonged to the Taggart bunch.
And I'd be a real Whittaker, a man who should stand for somethin', as my dad and granddad did afore me. The town should respect me, and I'd do things to help it along. And what's it all come to? Why, every young one on the street is told to be good for fear he'll grow up like me. Ain't that so? Course it's so! I'm " "You SHALL not speak so!
"I am going to spend the day with you, Granddad, and probably the night as well. You can give me a bed in a corner of this delightful sitting-room. Is that breakfast? I wish you would serve it up; I am starving." "It's a very good breakfast, little Nina. Fried rabbit, done after a new method. Bacon and eggs to follow, with a sauce of port wine. Olives and sour claret for dessert.
He was white at the sight of the wounds, and the freckles stood out in copper patches from his pallor. Now he clung to the old man. "Granddad, it's the gent that tried to buy Sally!" The old man had produced a murderous jackknife with a blade that had been ground away to the disappearing point by years of steady grinding. "Get some wood in the stove," he commanded. "Fire her up, quick.
Aren't you a Russian? 'I'm a Mtchanin, granddad; I was born in Mtchensk. 'Oh, silly dunce! but where is Mtchensk? 'How can I tell? 'Mtchensk's in Russia, silly! 'Well, what then, if it is in Russia? 'What then? Why, his Highness the late Prince Mihalo Ilarionovitch Golenishtchev-Kutuzov-Smolensky, with God's aid, graciously drove Bonaparty out of the Russian territories.
Malasha looked down from the oven with shy delight at the faces, uniforms, and decorations of the generals, who one after another came into the room and sat down on the broad benches in the corner under the icons. "Granddad" himself, as Malasha in her own mind called Kutuzov, sat apart in a dark corner behind the oven.
You boil the leeks for so many hours, and catch the essence in a distiller. Bah! you care nothing for eating, witch." "I like some of your dishes very well, Granddad, but I prefer cleanliness to luxury. Now, go out and get shaved." "It will cost me sixpence." "Sixpence well spent. Don't talk any more; go!" He blew her a kiss, half of derision, half of pride, and shambled downstairs.
"Granddad's a Presbyterian," she said, blushing, "and I'd rather he'd be a Presbyterian. Better ax granddad."
My mother, who was quite illiterate, having known no teacher than the bitter experience of a harassed life, was the exact opposite of what my tastes required for their development. My peculiarity must seek its origin elsewhere: that I will swear. But I do not find it in my father, either. The excellent man, who was hard working and sturdily built like granddad, had been to school as a child.
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