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Updated: May 29, 2025
"I wish he wouldn't look like that when he sings.... Perhaps he feels like I felt this spring.... I wonder if Ma'm was right.... I wonder if people do fall in love with love...." Her reflections took a strange turn, half serious, half humorous. "It's like a trap, almost, when you think of it that way," she thought.
"Ma'm," said he, "in a book yo' pencil would make a high price mark, and from one man that I know of there could be no purchase." "I gad," snorted Old Jasper, "dinged if he didn't git right up and stand higher than he was befo'." "Jasper," Margaret protested, "I wouldn't make fun of the way a man stands. It don't sound right." "My dear," Mrs.
And it must be allowed that nothing in nature can have a better effect than Mr. Drake's flesh-colour and blue, with this Spanish hat, ma'm, you see. French fleet at sea Hum! Landlady. O gemini: Mr. Drake's Spanish hat is the sweetest, tastiest thing! Mr. Finsbury, I protest Finsb. Why, ma'm, I knew a lady of your taste couldn't but approve of it. My own invention entirely, ma'm.
So, when you look after this "American servant," you find alien blood, lip-service, a surface-warmth that flatters, but does not delude, a fidelity that fails you in sickness, or increased toil, or the prospect of higher wages; and you say to the "American servant," "How long have you been in Boston?" "Born in Boston, Ma'm, in Eliot Street, Ma'm." So was not Polly. Polly had lived with us always.
"Very true, ma'm, but not until after the feller had lost his ear." "Law, me!" exclaimed Margaret, standing at the door, "but you folks air cuttin' up scollops." "Mr. Reverend," Mrs. Mayfield continued, determined to pursue a subject so interesting to herself, "someone told me of a very heroic thing you did." "Why, ma'm, I can't look back an' see that I ever did anything heroic.
Just glance at the title please, 'Gonderil the Vampire, or The Dance of Death. And here is 'The Jokist's Own Treasury, or, The Phunny Phellow's Bosom Phriend. The funniest thing! I've read it four times, ma'm, and I can laugh at the very sight of it yet. And 'Gonderil, I assure you it is the most splendid book I ever read.
A spasm of pain contorted her drawn face and again her eyes closed under the agony. She re-opened them at the sound of Steve's voice. "Will you tell me, ma'm?" he said. Steve's manner was gentle. His sympathy for this stricken creature was real and deep. She was a woman, suffering and alone in a God-forsaken land. The thought appalled him.
Wouldn't you be happy if your brother should get well, and you knew that your prayers had done it?" "It wouldn't be me, Ma'm; 'twould be you and your brother." Ann considered how she should best begin to open the young mind to truth. "Child, would you like me to tell you a story?" she asked presently. "Yep," replied Flea eagerly. "Is it about fairies, or ghosts, or goblins what live near lakes?"
"But would my dreaming again and again that I had heard you call me Jim would that kill it again? Honey, I I beg your pardon. I am used to talking to children, and I call them by pet names. I beg your pardon." She looked far away, at the blue water rippling down the hills. "If in your sight I could be as a little child." "Ma'm, I lead a child, but you could lead me." "To walk with you, Mr.
Jest look at 'em all tossed about, same as you might toss slap-jacks, as the sayin' is. It's a mercy of heaven, an' no thanks to him, you've got a rag fit to wear. It surely ain't fer me to say it, but it's real lucky I'm here to put things right for you. Drat them shoes! I don't guess I'll ever git 'em all into this bag, miss ma'm I mean miss, mum."
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