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"I'm a-holding, Dave!" The two-year colt, Rix, lay on the ground. Sid was holding tightly to the lasso, while Dave was trying to put the points of a pair of small nippers into Rix's right eye. Rix had objected very much, but Dave was determined; he knew something was wrong with that eye. "There!" said Dave at last, holding up the nippers. "See? Fox-tail, just's I thought. Got it in his eye."
It was a letter by Armand St. Just to Sir Andrew Ffoulkes the letter which Chauvelin's spies had stolen at "The Fisherman's Rest," and which Chauvelin had held as a rod over her to enforce her obedience. Now he had kept his word he had sent her back St. Just's compromising letter . . . for he was on the track of the Scarlet Pimpernel.
Lathrop, I went so faint in my knees 'n' so rumbly in my ears 't you c'd 'a' clubbed me with a straw 'n' gagged me with a wisp o' hay that minute. I jus' stood starin', 'n' you c'n believe me or not just's you please, but I never was so nigh to fallen over backwards in all my life before.
He put up $500 more, then mixed the cards, and I turned the winner. Everybody roared with laughter. Old Jack turned around, looked at the crowd for a moment, then said: "You fellars kin laugh at me just's much as yer like, but I don't 'low no man to back me down." He then told the barkeeper to bring him a dram.
Just's prophecies, the fulfilment also of what a hundred brains had silently determined twenty years before when the staff gave up their swords outside Metz; the army and the kind of army of which Chanzy had said in the first breath of the armistice, "A man who forgets it should be hanged, but a man who speaks of it before its time should be shot with the honours of his rank."
There was wanst a boss in th' Sixth Wa-ard, an' his name was Flannagan; an' he came fr'm th' County Clare, but so near th' bordher line that no wan challenged his vote, an' he was let walk down Ar-rchey Road just's though he come fr'm Connock.
"Well, young man," Phoebe replied, with her prim New England manner, "if you want to marry me, you'll have to come and live in a country where they don't have queens, and you'll work in your shirt-sleeves like an honest man. You might just's well understand that first as last." The knight moved back a step, with an injured expression on his face.
Lucy would think it that of her admirer, and would be all the more sure to keep her appointment. He left it as it was, swinging lightly on the water, six feet out. It was a habit of Just's to moor a boat at the length of her painter, to prevent her bumping against the rough old landing. Lucy, coming swiftly down the path fifteen minutes later, saw the boat and hastened her steps.
He receiving in reply some such answer as: "Yes, quite lovely in fairy tales, Peter, and when you have taught him for you did it, remember how to shovel and clean up underbrush and split rocks and that just's what Ruth told me he was doing when she took a telegram to her father which had come to the house and he in a pair of overalls, like any common workman what, may I ask, will you have him doing next?
But I haven't any temper, and you needn't act just's if you's trying to pacify me." "O, thank you, Dotty; on my third finger." "Now I've wished it on, Prudy; and its a good-enough wish for you, when you won't pity me; but now I'm going up in the bathing-room to stay, and you can't make me come down not a single step." "I shan't want you to come down, Dotty.
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