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Updated: May 12, 2025
But let me tell you, Clint Webb, that you and your ma'd be paupers now if he hadn't got drowned as he did. It was the only thing he could do." "You'd better drop it," I advised him, scornfully. "You'd much better be thinking of what will happen to you because of this evening's work. You can't bother me by any such silly talk."
The proposition sounds all right in the abstract marriage, money, comfort, everything I want but when it comes right down to the point I always balk." "Humph! You ought to consider the rest of us a little bit. Pa could be cured, ma'd be happy. I could get on my feet. How about Bob Wharton?" "He's a drunkard." "Good Lord, you don't expect to grab a divinity student, do you?
Humming a hymn he took another dish from the ice-chest and placed it beside the mackerel plate. "What's that?" inquired Barbara. "That? Oh, that's my toppin'-off layer. That's a rice puddin', poor man's puddin', some folks call it. I cal'late your ma'd call it a man's poor puddin', but it makes good enough ballast for a craft like me." He began singing again.
"Thar's apple-butter between 'em," he added, rolling his tongue, and a minute later, "Ma'd whip me jest the same, an' I'd ruther be whipped for a whole day than for a half. Besides," he burst out as though the mental image convulsed him with delight, "if I went home I'd have to help her tote the water for the washin'." "But what are you going to do with yourself?"
"Soon as de young missus be gone, I go an' kick ovah her playhouse an' upset her toys. When she come back, she be hoppin' mad, an staht beatin' me. "'Jessie, her ma'd say, 'you'll kill Buddy, beatin' him dat way. "'I don't care, she say, 'I'll beat him to death, an' git me a bettah one. "I'd roll on de flo' an' holler loud, an' preten' she hurt me pow'ful bad.
Betcherlife my ma'd chinge with yours if she could." "Would she? But Angel doesn't get on at all well here. I've heard her telling a lady she lent some money to, and wanted to have it back, after awhile.
Betcherlife my ma'd chinge with yours if she could." "Would she? But Angel doesn't get on at all well here. I've heard her telling a lady she lent some money to, and wanted to have it back, after awhile.
"I don't see how a little gal like you ever come to be on a night train alone," said Mrs. Surly, with a keen, curious look at Gypsy's face; "but I know your ma'd never let you go to a hotel this time o' night, and Mary Ann she'd be delighted to see you; so you'd better come along." Gypsy was so happy and so thankful, she could fairly have kissed her, even her, Mrs. Surly.
Because I knew you'd fly off the handle and get yourself killed, and then your ma'd be left all alone, that's why, now and prob'ly they'd 'a' wound up by dumping the whole passle of us bag and baggage into the stream. And it wa'n't any use, your father bein' dead and gone." The Bishop took up the burden, slapping him cordially on the back. "Come, come, hearten up, now!
"Yes, John, I know I am p'posin' by da-aylight! It don't work! But, you know, when I wait until evenin' I ain't in any condition. Still, I'll neveh p'pose to her by da-aylight again! I don't believe Eve would 'a' ma'd Adam if he'd p'posed by da-aylight." The kind Captain passed out.
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