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It's a jool ye'll have in him. Shure I rared him meself, and he says his prayers every morning. Kape sthill, honey! Faith, ye're not afraid of yer poor old mammy pullin' yer beautiful cur-r-rls?" Uncle Jay-Jay was laughing like fun; even aunt Helen deigned to smile; and Everard was looking on with critical interest. "Go on," said uncle.
"You aren't wearing it?" "Why not?" I asked. "Why? Well, I don't know exactly. I wouldn't wear it for a million dollars. It ain't a jool; it's a piece of the divil. The old man gave it to Dr. Holcomb or sold it, I don't know which. He carried it in his pocket once, and he came near dying." "Unlucky?" I asked. "No, it ain't unlucky; it just rips your heart out.
'I will not argue wid you, sez I, 'this day, but subsequintly, Mister Dearsley, me rafflin' jool, we talk ut out lengthways. 'Tis no good policy to swindle the naygur av his hard-earned emolumints, an' by presint informa-shin' 'twas the kyart man that tould me 'ye've been perpethrating that same for nine months.
His hands were running through Brewster's pockets with the quickness of a machine. "You don't go much on jewelry, I guess. Are dese shoit buttons de real t'ing?" "They're pearls," said Monty, cheerfully. "My favorite jool," said the man with the revolver. "Clip 'em out, Bill." "Don't cut the shirt," urged Monty. "I'm going to a little supper and I don't like the idea of a punctured shirt-front."
"Ye're an ould bould hand," sez he, sizin' me up an' down; "an' a jool av a fight we will have. Eat now an' dhrink, an' go your way." Wid that he gave me some hump an' whisky good whisky an' we talked av this an' that the while. "It goes hard on me now," sez I, wipin' my mouth, "to confiscate that piece av furniture, but justice is justice."
Whisper, darlint" and he bent down his royal head close to Mrs. Russell's tingling ear "whisper, jool: I'm wantin' to have a discoorse wid ye somethin' important I must see ye alone. It's ill convaynient just now, an' I don't want to be overheard. I'll wait till the gyerruls are aslape, an' I'll luk in. Ye'll moind, will ye? This noight, jool." "Ah, sire ah, 'Your Majesty," sighed Mrs.
It would make you hate your grandmother. Lonesome! Lonesome! I've often heard the old man talking." "He sold it to Dr. Holcomb? Do you know why?" "Well, yes. 'Twas that the old doc had some scientific work. Dad told him about his jool. One day he took it over to Berkeley. It was some kind of thing that the professor just wanted. He kept it. Dad made him promise not to wear it." "I see.
By his side was a great American statesman, who was traveling around the world and yet had refused all other invitations of this sort. He had come for the pleasure of meeting the famous Dutch writer and politician, Mr. Van Jool. The two were already talking intimately. It was at this point that tragedy, or something like it, intervened.
He was just eating supper when we called; there were splotches of white plaster on his trousers. I came right to the point: "Do you know anything about this?" I held out the ring. He took it in his fingers; his eyes popped. "What, that! Well, I guess I do! Where'd you get it?" He called out to the kitchen: "Say, Mollie, come here. Here's the old man's jool!" He looked at me a bit fearfully.
Fortunately, you are the last guest. This is the seventh supper." Mr. Von Tassen glanced around at the three men and made up his mind. "What do you call yourself?" he asked Peter. "The Baron de Grost," Peter replied. "Then, my friend the Baron de Grost," Von Tassen said, "I think that you and I had better get out of this. So I was to talk about Germany with Mr. Van Jool, eh?"
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