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Updated: June 6, 2025
Myrover peered around the kitchen, and caught sight of Sophy. "What are you doing here?" she demanded. "I-I 'm-m waitin' ter see de cook, ma'am," stammered Sophy. "The cook is n't here now. I don't know where she is. Besides, my daughter is to be buried to-day, and I won't have any one visiting the servants until the funeral is over.
"Wha' have I to s-s-say for 'shelf, Mistah C-Cour'-nay? Ha! ha! I has p-plenty to s-s-shay. Why, sah, I I I've g-got him, sah!" "Got who, you villain? Got who?" I reiterated. "Why why M-M- Mor the pirate!" blurted Peter, finding himself unable to successfully pronounce Morillo's name. "Do you mean to say that you have succeeded in obtaining news of Morillo, Peter?"
"And if that was too much what then?" "Reef it again." "And too much yet?" "Balance-reef it maybe take it in altogether and the jib with it, and get out the riding-sail." "And would you do nothing to the fores'l?" "M-m I dunno with some vessels maybe I'd reef that, too maybe take it in altogether." "My, but you're cert'nly a dog. And what then?" "Why, then I'd try to work her out."
She must be why, I suppose she's every bit of thirty! And that's simply awful!" "I'm thirty-eight," smiled Carroll. "No?" "Yes, indeed." "Well, you don't look it. You don't look a day over twenty-two, and I think men who are really grown up and yet look like boys are simply adorable! I do, really. And I simply despise boys of twenty-two who try to look like thirty-eight. Don't you?" "M-m!
The dark, quietly colored coat was relieved on each side by the buff-colored initials, "M-M" lovingly intertwined. "I suppose Papa thought the red coat was too gaudy," said Billie, who was indeed just a little tearful over the loss of that cheerful and familiar scarlet dress which would never again flash along the highways like a scarlet bird.
"You need not fear any trouble with my horse," the evangelist said, as Dallas was heard bidding Simon keep to his side of the stall. "Shadrach is a gentle beast." At the name, the section-boss cocked his head like an inquiring bird. "M-m, Shadrach," he began in important reflection; "y' call y' hoss Shadrach. Ah seem t' hev heerd thet name before."
"Why, Bradford that is er the two Ruffords started a little shooting match with Andy, and m-m well, Bart passed out for keeps, this time, but Dick lived long enough to tell Bradford a few things for old cow-boy times' sake, I suppose. I'll never put it all over any man, again, as long as I live, Mr.
"If it ain't Will to the T! Pickin' hisself a Fat to sponge on. Can you beat it? M-m! Was you the Fat in the Coney concession?" "Who Whatta you want?" "We was playin' the Zadalia County Fair. I heard he was on his back. The Little in our show, Baroness de Ross, has a husband played Coney with youse. Where is he? Tell him his little Sid is here.
For the rest of the poor little picnic, with its gathering up of fragments and burning paper napkins the conversation was labored and conscious. On the trolley going home, Edith was the only one who tried to talk; Eleanor, holding Bingo in her lap, was dumb; and Johnny hunting about for an excuse to "get away from the whole blamed outfit!" only said "M-m" now and then.
M-m but look at the juice squish through her scuppers!" He held it up for all of us to have a look. "Now another little wash of coffee in the wake of that and I'll be all right for a fine little watch aloft." That night was the worst I ever put in towing astern of a vessel. "Owling" is the seiners' word for that kind of work.
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