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"I was thinking of that, too. It isn't fair that your uncle should have all the help on his end. I only wish we knew where we could get a good woman to help her." Tony, who was standing near, was listening closely to what was being said: "Mr. Bob, I have-a no told you that I got-a da wife who live in-a da city, and I know she like-a da come and work for-a your Aunt Bettie.
"I," he was saying, "am Pietro Moresco. I have-a da nice political posish, an' nice-a barber-shop on Mulberry-a Strit. Some-a day I getta on da force da pollis-force. Sure t'ing. I been-a home to see ma moth. I go-a back to make-a da more mon." He pulled out from his corded bundle of red quilts and coats and rugs some bottles of cheap wine. "I getta place for all you men."
"How goes it, Tony?" questioned Spike, whereat the young Italian smiled, and thereafter sighed and shook his head. "Da beezeneez-a ver' good," he sighed, "da peanut-a sell-a all-a da time! But my lil' Pietro he sick, he no da same since his moder die-a, me no da same have-a none of da luck noding nix!" "Hard cheese, Tony!" quoth Spike. "But say, have you seen th' Spider kickin' around?"
Smith helped enlarge the table and put on the dishes, talking all the time in that cheery, incoherent, and meaningful way a group of such women have-a conversation to be taken for its spirit rather than for its letter, though Mrs. Gray at last got the ear of them all and dissertated at length on girls. "Girls in love ain't no use in the whole blessed week," she said.
And, moreover, the death you are about to die, my dear Count, was once fashionable and popular in the world; and many a good and holy man went up to heaven from just such a death-bed as you shall have-a death-bed of fire and ashes.
Catherine was so taken by surprise that she did not know what to answer, and the lady repeated again, 'Which would you rather have-a happy youth or a happy old age? Then Catherine thought to herself, 'If I say a happy youth, then I shall have to suffer all the rest of my life.
"Baby," queried Sal, "you thinkin'-a leavin'?" "Gespacho," cried Atmananda, not waiting for my reply, "where have-a you been?" "With-a Guacamole!" shouted Sal. I was stunned. "How... how did they find out?" I thought. They danced about the room singing about Guacamole, a young maiden who blushed bright green. I did not know whether to laugh or to cry.
One day Catherine was sitting in her own room when suddenly the door flew open, and in came a tall and beautiful woman holding in her hands a little wheel. 'Catherine, she said, going up to the girl, 'which would you rather have-a happy youth or a happy old age?
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