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"I told them fellers not to monkey with the old car, but Mr. Welborn is anxious to git started, he thought he'd tune her up before breakfast." Gillis came from the barn with a brimming bucket of milk. "Howja rest, Davy?" he asked. "Fine! I hit the feathers and never moved until I heard this bombardment that I thought was an uprising of the Utes." "Breakfast is ready," called Mrs. Gillis.

It was an unfortunate allusion, and Warble, smiling with an engaging smile, wheedled, "Pleathe, pleathe " "No," Petticoat said, inexorably, "if you eat all the time you'll get to look like that soprano. Howja like that?" "Do you care if I'm fat, Bill?" "Me? Why, I wouldn't care if you were as big as a house. You're my well, you're my soulmate." "Oh, I'm so had and glappy! It's sweet to be yours.

"Hi!" and "Gosh darn you!" yes; but seldom "please." He seemed to approve of Jill, for he shifted his chewing-gum to a position which facilitated speech, and began to be helpful. "What was the name again?" "Selby." "Howja spell it?" "S-e-l-b-y." "S-e-l-b-y. Oh, Selby?" "Yes, Selby." "What was the first name?" "Christopher." "Christopher?" "Yes, Christopher." "Christopher Selby?

This is an age of just-as-good substitutes, but she refused to accept any unknown Sipperley as a satisfactory alternative for Uncle Chris. "I don't want Mr Sipperley. I want Major Selby." "Howja spell it once more?" "S-e-l-b-y." "S-e-l-b-y. No one of that name living here. Mr.

There was more, but no merrier, and when at last the platform was cleared for the last time, the guests were refreshed by the passing of a small glass of punch and a wafer to each. Then they went, with a flutter of silk stockings and twinkling slipper buckles, and a medley of shrieked goodbys. Warble and Petticoat reached home. "Howja like 'em?" he asked. "I'm so hungry," she wailed.