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There's going to be lots of other nights for you to think of me." She glanced at him with a quick curiosity. "Well, of all the conceit I ever heard!" "I'm the limit, ain't I?" he grinned as he took himself off. Next morning Larry got up so late that he had to Order a special breakfast for himself, the dining-room being closed.
Uncle Larry looked over her head to Mr. Jerry. "I can't thank you, sir," he said in a hushed voice, "but you've been a kind friend to the little girl today." "She's such a darling one has to be kind to her." Miss Thorley answered for Mr. Jerry and blushed when she realized it. "Don't you bother, Mr. Donovan. I'm like Mary Rose, I know everything will be all right." "I hope so, Miss Thorley.
"That's an argument in favor of cremation, at any rate," replied Jones, evading the direct question. "It is, if you don't like ghosts; I do," said Baby Van Rensselaer. "And so do I," added Uncle Larry. "I love a ghost as dearly as an Englishman loves a lord." "Go on with your story," said the Duchess, majestically overruling all extraneous discussion.
"I don't believe he will do much," said Larry Colby. "He is only talking, that's all. He knows well enough that Captain Putnam can have him locked up, if he wants to." By eight o'clock that evening the field in which they were to encamp for the night was reached. Tents were speedily put up, and half a dozen camp-fires started, making the boys feel quite at home.
So they are coming down all o' Monday them are the band-boxes, and all to settle it; and faith it was a pity of her! to hear her sobbing, and to see her own brother speak and look so hard! and she a lady." "Sure, she's not a lady born, no more than himself," said Larry; "but that's no excuse for him.
How say you, Slugs?" Slugs smiled grimly, and nodded his head. "Would the red man like to pitch his wigwam there?" said Robin, addressing the Black Swan. "He has pitched his wigwam here before," replied the Black Swan softly. "When he first took the White Swan home to be his mate, he came to hunt here." "Och! is it the honeymoon ye spint here?" broke in Larry.
Fine country, that! Blast Ameriky, I say!" To tell the truth, this Larry dealt in some illiberal insinuations against civilization. "And what's the use of bein' snivelized!" said he to me one night during our watch on deck; "snivelized chaps only learns the way to take on 'bout life, and snivel.
The last words were scarcely uttered by the sturdy mendicant, when he turned round to observe whether or not Frank would stop at Larry Gartland's, the father of the girl to whom he had hitherto unsuccessfully avowed his attachment.
He dared not use the gas; it might be seen from the alleyway. He was moving now quickly, surely, silently here and there. It was like some weird spectre figure, a little blacker than the surrounding darkness, flitting about the room. The oilcloth in the corner was turned back, the loose flooring lifted, the clothes of Jimmie Dale taken out, the rags of Larry the Bat put in. The minutes flew by.
Larry was of course one of the friends. But unhappily there was a slight difference of sentiment even in Larry's own house, and on this very morning old Mrs. Twentyman had expressed to Mrs. Masters a feeling of wrong which had gradually risen from the annual demolition of her pet broods of turkeys.