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Updated: May 28, 2025
He hesitated and stared at his master with a challenging glint of eye. Forrest nodded. "Oh Joy him say call new boy 'Oh Hell." "Oh ho!" Forrest laughed in appreciation. "Oh Joy is a josher. A good name, but it won't do. There is the Missus. We've got to think another name." "Oh Ho, that very good name."
Osterman, ubiquitous as ever, resplendent in his boots and English riding breeches, moved about between the groups, keeping up an endless flow of talk, cracking jokes, winking, nudging, gesturing, putting his tongue in his cheek, never at a loss for a reply, playing the goat. "That josher, Osterman, always at his monkey-shines, but a good fellow for all that; brainy too.
Us two paddling up like a couple of Venetian gondoliers to serenade a celebrated prima donna in her fright ... I've a good mind to run home and fetch my guitar along ..." "What the devil, Cupido! No guitar business! What a josher you are! Our job is to get those women out of there. They'll get drowned if we don't." The barber, insisting on his romantic idea, fixed a pair of shrewd eyes on Rafael.
"I merely wanted to ask if you have sufficient time to let me dictate a few, short letters that ought to go out to-day," said Bobby, sarcastically; and then added with mock apology: "Don't move, Mr. Deever; if you're not in Miss Keating's way, you're certainly not in mine." "A great josher!" that young woman was heard to comment, admiringly.
"It's a pity I didn't know you was coming, but I'll do my best," declared Mr. Hale, opening the door in the counter. "Oh, I guess you can fix us all right, if you want to, Eddie." "Mr. Ditmar's a great josher," Mr. Hale told Janet confidentially as he escorted them into the dining-room.
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