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Updated: June 18, 2025
"You may call it imagination, Cousin Henrietta; but I can't. I am positive his manner was intentional. He meant to snub me, by intimating of how slight account I am in his estimation. It was exceedingly galling. I do not want to employ a vulgar expression but he looked down his nose at me as if I was beneath contempt. You know that insolent, arrogant way of his?" "Oh, la-la!" Henrietta cried.
Pemberton only wondered, while he took up his hat, what "all that" was to amount to people had such different ideas. Mrs. Moreen's words, however, seemed to commit the family to a pledge definite enough to elicit from the child a strange little comment in the shape of the mocking foreign ejaculation "Oh la-la!"
And Rosetta you know how little girls will take a fancy to a gentleman Rosetta holds out her hands and smiles at him like a little angel. He was leaning his hands on his stick and she reached out and took hold of it and says 'la-la! And I says 'see the nice gentleman's stick, and she gurgles 'la-la! again. Cunning! What a bird she was!
Indeed, one night he gave me a wondrously made empty cigar box with a little lock to it. “Ooh La-la!” I cried, and made a very deep bow, and said in what I'm sure was correct French—because Monsieur Le Bon Chef said it was—“Thank you very much!”
We Yankees don't use rods and flies and net and gaff as these Scotch people use 'em. But we're white, Seventy-six, and we use 'em RIGHT in our own fashion." He moistened his throat, shoved aside the glass: "But this kilted Boche! Oh, la-la! What he did with his rod and flies and his fish and himself! AND his gillie! Sure YOU'RE not white at all, thinks I. And at that I go after them."
Jimmie's voice came, rounded and giggling, "Oh, Mademoiselle! j'ai une potato, pardong, pum de terre, je mean." She poked three fingers through the toe of her stocking. "Veux dire, veux dire Qu'est-ce-que vous me racontez la?" scolded Mademoiselle. Miriam envied her air of authority. "Ah-ho! La-la Boum Bong!" came Gertrude's great voice from the door.
"Oh, no, don't go too close," begged his sister. "It might be a trap, or perhaps the bad fox is hidden inside it." "It's too small for a fox to get in," declared the boy guinea pig. "I'll take a smell, anyhow." So he crept slowly, slowly, slowly up to the white box, and sniffed, and sniffed and sniffed. "Oh! Ah! Um! La-la! Um!
From every throat burst a yell of wild acclaim, shout on shout: "Hey, lads, for Cap'n Jo! 'Tis she hath the wise head, mates! Money and vengeance, says Jo! Shout, lads, for Fighting Jo shout!" "And what o' your big rogue, Jo?" demanded Belvedere, scowling on me. "He?" said Joanna, curling her lip at me. "Oh, la-la, he shall be our slave 'til he weary me. So bring: them along!"
"To the harbour, to see if all the good things have come for the other little boys and girls." "Oh la-la! Good things and bad things come by the boat. Sometime it'll sink and drown 'em all." "Little rascal!" and he waved his hand and went on. "Late, isn't she, Carré?" he asked, as he leaned over the sea-wall with the rest. "She's late, sir." "I hope nothing's happened to her.
She began to sing in her high, fresh voice a little snatch from a French song, with a swinging tra la-la chorus.
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