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Updated: May 2, 2025
"'Glad'!" He pressed tobacco into a slender pipe as emaciated as himself. "You don't know W R. If he got a beat on the story of Creation he'd be sore as hell because God wanted a byline." He evidently enjoyed his own quip for he repeated several times in different accents "... God wanted a byline." He puffed a matchflame and surveyed the field of Mr Barelli's effort. "Hardworkin feller, what?
We're guilty of the charges preferred, and I'm going to pass sentence.... But before I do that, there's one thing the parson didn't mention, that in my opinion should be told, to wit: Miss Lydia Bolton's money all that she had came to her from her uncle, an honest hardworkin' citizen of Boston. He made every penny of it as a soap-boiler.
The sons are bodaghs gintlemen, now; an' it's nothin' but dinners an' company. Ahagur, that wasn't the way their hardworkin' father an' mother made the money that they're houldin' their heads up wid such consequence upon." The children, however, did not give Peter up as hopeless. Father Mulcahy, too, once-more assailed him on his weak side.
"Well, I've noticed that they have a particular likin' for the worthless over the hardworkin' sort," remarked old Adam, "an' when it comes to that, I've known a woman to git clear set against a man on o'count of nothin' bigger than a chaw of tobaccy." "It's the way of the sex," said Solomon Hatch.
"And he's a hardworkin' little feller, too," Massey added. "Not a thing wrong with Benny but his back. That is crooked; but he's as straight as a string." "How's his fambly?" asked Uncle Jason. "Ain't got none but a wife. A decent, hard-working woman," proclaimed the druggist. "No children. Her brother boards with 'em. That's all." "Well, sir!" said Uncle Jason, oracularly.
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