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Updated: June 4, 2025
'E's peaceable enough when the liquor's out of 'im. But their 'ands comes so 'eavy. They don't know how 'eavy their 'ands comes." Thus Mrs. Wemock, standing in the doorway, for the moment holding Orlando, who resented his transfer with a subdued howl of grief, and looked anxiously down the alley toward Polly's retreating figure. "'Ush now an' ma'll give him a winkle. Polly's gone for winkles.
But now we're plumb at a deadlock till they run another cargo, which I'm calculating, at the rate liquor's consumed, they'll soon have to do. Maybe that'll give us a week or so for fixing our plans. I've watched each member of the gang, and we've got their movements written down here, from the time we missed that cargo on the trail. Maybe you'll read my notes on them."
He is past reform. The poor-house is the place to send him to, 'tis." "Well, take good care on him, Master Jailer, now you've got him. He comes of a good enough family," says the first officer. "He's bin in this condition more nor a week layin' down yonder, in Snug Harbor. Liquor's drived all the sense out on him," rejoins the second and bidding the jailer good-morning, they retire.
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