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Updated: May 6, 2025
For curiosity, I asked an urchin if he knew you. He flung his ragged cap twenty feet into the air, turned a somerset, and came up smiling as well as he could through the dirt, 'Don't I, though? He brung us meal an' 'taters when dad broke his leg, and he fetched oranges in his pocket when marm had the fevers. He's one of 'em, he is. Don't interrupt me.
The galls larf, the helps larf, and the, bed-room maid larfs; and who the plague can blame them? Old Marm don't larf though, because she is too perlite, and besides, she's lost her flowers, and that's no larfin' matter; and you don't larf, 'cause you feel a little the nastiest you ever did, and jist as near like a fool as to be taken for one, in the dark, that's a fact.
So, what with Marm Lecain's carpets in the house, and other folks' waistcoats in the street, its too nice a location for me, I guess, so I shall up killoch and off to morrow to the TREE-mont. Now, says the Professor, the St.
He forgot that he had a wider audience than his wife; he lost all control of himself, and cried aloud in a frenzy of rage, "What a pity thou hadst not a fourth uncle!" Mrs. Sugarman collapsed, speechless. "A greedy lot, marm," Sugarman reported to Mrs. Hyams on the Monday.
Prob'ly to-morrow. By the looks of the sky it's goin' to be a nice, warm day." She backed to the door, her eyes goggling. "I ain't got any hard feelin's at all, marm. I pity you, and here's a ten-dollar bill that I'll advance from the town. I reckon I'll wait till after you're a widder before I take you to the poorhouse." She clutched the bill and ran out.
The Road to a Woman's Heart The Broken Heart. As we approached the inn at Amherst, the Clockmaker grew uneasy. "It's pretty well on in the evening, I guess," said he, "and Marm Pugwash is as onsartain in her temper as a mornin' in April; it's all sunshine or all clouds with her, and if she's in one of her tantrums, she'll stretch out her neck and hiss, like a goose with a flock of goslins.
Simultaneously, a lovely angel with brown hair and a white apron would fly to the spot, and the children would go through a mysterious process like the swarming of bees around a queen. Slowly, reluctantly, painfully, the swarm settled itself into lines in conformance with some hidden law or principle unknown to Marm Lisa.
“Mistuss,” he said, “I ’lowed ’twar best to come to de house an’ tell you; fur Massa he alluz did say ‘Hi’urm, I counts on you to keep a eye open endurin’ my appersunce;’ you ricollic, marm?” addressing an expanse of black bordered cambric that veiled the features of his mistress. “Things is a goin’ wrong; dat dey is.
Such was not the case, however. After luncheon, Marm Lisa had washed the twins' hands and faces in the back-yard as usual, and left them for an instant to get a towel from the kitchen. When she returned, she looked blankly about, for there was no sign of the two dripping faces and the uplifted streaming hands.
It was now tea-time, and immediately afterwards Mr. and Mrs. Furze went to church. Soon after nine on the following morning, and before Mr. Furze had left, Jim appeared with another request "to see the missus." "I'll go downstairs," she said. "He wants to see me about the boiler." There was nobody but Jim in the kitchen. "Well, Jim?" "Well, marm." "What have you got to say?"
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