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Updated: June 15, 2025
The sunlight sifted through in great, unbroken patches of gold, falling on the beds of fern and moss and yes, there they were, the promised lady's-slippers. A little, indrawn sigh of ecstasy from Patsy caused the tinker to turn about. "Then you're not hatin' gold when you find it growin' green that-a-way?" he chuckled. Patsy shook her head with vehemence. "Never!
They are all divided into sects, railin', quarrellin', separatin', and agreein' in nothin', but hatin' each other. It is awful to think on. T'other family will some day or other gather them all up, put them into a bundle and bind them up tight, and condemn 'em as fit for nothin' under the sun, but the fire.
Then he hummed a bit o' 'Fishin' for the Maid I Loves, 'ithout thinkin' much about the toon. 'Cook, says he, 'I loves you. You is on'y a half-witted chance-child, says he, 'but I loves you like a brother. "'Does you, skipper? says the cook, with a grin, like the fool he was. 'I isn't by no means hatin' you, skipper, says he.
"You still busy hatin' me?" "I'm simply surprised that you have come in here to talk to me." "You look as if you seen somethin' in my face?" he said suspiciously. "What is it? Dirt?" He brushed a hand across his forehead. "Whatever it is," she answered, "you can't rub it away." "I'm thinkin' of givin' you a leave of absence if you'll promise to come back." "Would you trust my honour?"
Some folks say they get through life without hatin' anybody, but if you'll look around an' watch them, you'll find they're mostly an unfeelin' kind. You ain't one of them kind, ma'am. I've watched you, an' I've seen that you've got a heap of spirit. Some of these days you're goin' to wake up. An' when you do, you'll find out what love is." "Don't you think I love Mr.
It was after one of such times that he said to her: "I think I'll have a little speech with 'em. I'll tell 'em that far from wanting to hurt 'em, I'll be their friend if they'll let me." "Do, lovey," replied Mrs. Peggy, "for I'm hatin' to have 'em misjudge you."
What makes you ast?" "Because I hate and despise revenue spies." "Well, they hain't been a-botherin' roun lately, an' we hain't got no call to hate 'em tell they gits in sight. Hatin' is a mighty ha'sh disease. When Puss's preacher comes along, he talks ag'in it over the Bible, an' when you call 'im in to dinner, he talks ag'in it over the chicken-bones. I reckon hit's mighty bad mighty bad."
Shure them's two kidneys, an' that's fwhat Clayver tay will cure better'n all the docthers in the wurruld, an' ye hev to know just how. Ye see, kidney thruble is a koind o' fayver; it's hatin', so ye make yer Clayver tay in cold wather; if ye make it o' warrum wather it just makes ye wuss an' acts loike didly pizen.
As Hatin was a gourmet, Guynemer went that same evening to Le Bourget to fetch two bottles of Rhine wine to celebrate this family fête. At Le Bourget he tried the new Nieuport machine, which was the hope of the fighting airplanes.
Harpe?" Watching her face, Symes saw the change which flashed over it with his question. "Like her! Like Dr. Harpe?" She took a step toward him, and the intensity in her voice startled him. Her little gray eyes seemed to dart sparks as she answered "I come nearer hatin' her than I ever have any human bein'!" "But why?" he persisted.
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