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Updated: June 21, 2025
"The pigeons'll have to stay till to-morrow, Master Carey," he said, confidentially. "But I say, sir, don't say as that hyster soup aren't good." The lad did not. In fact he was helped twice, while the doctor sent a thrill of pride through the old sailor as he made comparisons between it and turtle. "Well, no, sir," said the old fellow, modestly, "not so good as that.
He decided to write a story about Alphonse and the cannery. Alphonse was a slim, dark, middle aged Filipino with a thin straight mustache. He had watched Joe stack empty pallets with a yellow Hyster and then he'd motioned Joe out of the seat. The forklift engine roared; his hands blurred; pallets leaped into perfect piles, ten feet high. Alphonse cut the engine and climbed down, eyes bright.
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