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Updated: May 23, 2025
There was no response. The cabby threw open the apron of the cab and gently shook the recumbent figure. "I can't wait 'ere all night for my fare!" he exclaimed. "Wake up, God luv us!" he broke off. He stepped hastily back on to the pavement, and began tugging at one of his lamps. "Push his hat back, sir," he said. "Let's 'ave a look at 'im."
Si's initials were wrought in white thread on the cuffs, and on the bosom was a maze of white lines representing hearts, anchors, roses and flags of the Union. In the center of these, in letters of bold outline but rugged execution, was the legend: "Josiah Klegg. His shirt. From Tildy." "Round is the ring, That has no end; So is my luv for you, My dearest friend."
"The work hoz tull be done, an' I am beholden tull no one." "But have you no children, no family, relations?" "Oh, aye, a-plenty o' them, but they no see fut tull be helpun' me." She drew out her pipe for a moment, then added, with a nod of her head toward the house, "I luv' wuth meself."
"For the luv of heavin, Willyum, did that brute do that to you?" cried Mrs. Moriarity. William tried to explain, but she never heard him. "It's good f'r him Moriarity wasn't here or he'd a bruk his neck," she went on excitedly. "Come on in," she ordered, "all ov yez; come on, Willyum." And William went.
But you no this glorus Govyment must be pertected, and the bully Stars and Strips must flote, and your Si is goin to help do it. "My pen is poor, my ink is pale, My luv for you shall never fale. "Yours, aflfeckshnitly, Si Klegg." SI KLEGG was a good specimen of a healthy, robust Hoosier lad for he could scarcely be called' a man yet.
A much-bethumbed envelope, addressed in crooked "printed" characters to "Mis Janis Day, Pokton," enclosed in a teacher's letter to the storekeeper, was the cover of Janice's love letter. Inside, the child said: "Dear Janis, jus' to think, I can see reel good, and my techur what I luv says maybe I will heer reel good bymeby.
"Stryker," he said steadily, "give me the four pounds and let's have no more nonsense; or else hand over my things at once." "Daffy," Stryker told vacancy, with conviction. "Lor' luv me if I sees 'ow he ever 'ad sense enough to escype. W'y, yer majesty!" and he bowed, ironic. "I 'ave given you yer quid." "Just about as much as I gave you that pearl pin," retorted Kirkwood hotly.
Thi mother's heart's noan dry, lass, tho' thi thirst's gone; and I'll luv' thee though thaa splashes mi luv' back in mi face, and spills it on th' graand. And a third time the woman fell on the girl's neck, and kissed her flesh into flame with the passion of her caress. 'Durnd, mother! durnd! said Amanda. 'Blame me, if yo' like; curse me, if yo' like. But luv' I connot ston'; it drives me mad.
You sawr 'ow them tinkers jibbed just now. I must 'umor 'em a bit, d n 'em. But wait till the next time some of 'em ships under me. Lord luv' a duck, won't I skin 'em? Not 'arf!" De Sylva, with all his admirable command of English, could not follow the Coke variety in its careless freedom. But he knew his man.
"I wonder, now, is that a dog or only uts growl ter sind me back in the wet fer luv av the laugh at me?" chirped a voice as hoarse as a buttery brogue would allow it to be.
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