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Updated: May 27, 2025
Hawthorne, after she with true politeness had taken the box of cigarettes to the other of her guests, spoke of Hunt. Perhaps her thoughts, too, had gone straying, and mysteriously encountered some straying thought of his. "Charlie Hunt," she said, "is coming on Sunday morning to take us to the picture-galleries. We're going to play hooky from church.
Her right hand held the dark object and with it began to make a succession of quick, wavy, hooky dabs at one end of the strip of white. "First time I ever seen anybody trying to knit without needles," said the perplexed Swing. "That ain't knitting," said the superior Racey. "That's tatting." "Tatting?" "Tatting." "What's it for?" "Lingery." Racey pronounced the word to rhyme with "clingery."
Her color was high; her breath coming evenly from between her slightly parted lips. She looked like a child oblivious to everything but some innocent daydream. "You look as if you were dreaming of candy and kisses, Nancy, are you?" he asked presently. "No, I'm just glad to be free. It's been a long time since I've played hooky." "I know it."
Trifling troubles move him to tears and serious ones pass unnoticed. To snare a few worthless suckers in the meadow brook is to the country boy of more importance than the gathering of a field of grain. To play hooky and go nutting is far better than to study and fit himself for earning a livelihood. He works at his play and makes play of his work. He disdains boyhood and longs for manhood.
The "pony" had seen better days than the cart, and always looked as if he were just on the point of succeeding in running away from it. Hooky Crewe was driver so called because an iron hook was his substitute for a right arm. Robbie Proctor, the blacksmith, made the hook and fixed it in. Crewe suffered from rheumatism, and when he felt it coming on he stayed at home.
I am asking you no questions about yourself, Pete, because I have done little but ask questions about you since I first heard you were here, four or five days ago." "By hooky, Jack, I never expected to see you again. Where you been all these years? And how'd you happen to turn up here?" "Never mind me, Pete. Here is too much talk of my affairs and none of yours. Man, I have news for your ear!
We had been boys together, played hooky many a school-time afternoon, gone over the same fishing grounds, plunged into the same swimming-holes, and smoked our first cigar in the rear of my father's barn; and it is the recollection of such things that cements all the more strongly friendship in man and man.
But the most remarkable thing about her coming into the parish, was the change that took place in Christian names among us. Old Mr Hooky, her father, had, from the time he read his Virgil, maintained a sort of intromission with the nine muses, by which he was led to baptize her Sabrina, after a name mentioned by John Milton in one of his works.
She had pulled off her hat as soon as she returned, and had flung herself into the big dining-room chair. "I do nothing but steal umbrellas. I am so very sorry! Do come in and choose one. Is yours a hooky or a nobbly? Mine's a nobbly at least, I THINK it is."
"I I think, if you don't mind, I'll play hooky this time and run over to Atlantic City for a couple of days. You'll find things slowing up, now that the holidays are so near." "Fine idea fine!" agreed Emma McChesney; but her eyes still wore the troubled look. "Good-by," said T. A. Buck abruptly. "Good " and then she stopped. "I've a brand-new idea.
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