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'Fight, or I'll disqualify you you, Bill, I mean you. An' this to me, with a touch on the shoulder 'so they's no mistakin'. "It ain't pretty. It ain't right. D'ye know what we was fightin' for? A hundred bucks. Think of it! An' the game is we got to do our best to put our man down for the count because of the fans has bet on us. Sweet, ain't it? Well, that's my last fight. It finishes me deado.
She's a widow, you know, and she and Vincent are strugglin' along on the life insurance until they make Vincent general manager or vice-president or something. So, as I was telling you, it gives me more or less of a jolt to see Vincent flutterin' around Mirabelle. There's no mistakin' the motions, either.
"Oh, I know that all right, an' I'm willin' to swear to it," sez I, "but just now it's his teeth, not his ancestors, that are botherin' me. If I'm to be mistook for a jack-rabbit, I ain't nowise particular just which kind of a bulldog is goin' to do the mistakin'." Bill, he smiled sadly an' walked over an' stuck his naked finger right into the pup's mouth.
"Nuthin' would do Ethelindy," her granny lifted an accusatory voice, still knitting briskly, though she looked rebukingly over her spectacles at the cowering girl, "when that thar Union dee-tachmint rid into Tanglefoot Cove like a rat into a trap " "Yes," interposed Mrs. Brusie, "through mistakin' it fur Greenbrier Cove."
I'll put down a staff wid a cross on it." "Would there be no danger of me mistakin' that for the priest's cudgel?" "Divil the slightest. I'll pledge my knowledge of geography, they're two very different weapons." "Well, put it down I'll know it." "Roger M'Gaugy of Nurchasy. What for him? Roger's a pig-driver. I'll put down pig. You'll comprehend that?" "I ought; for many a pig I sould in my day.
"Divil a lie in that," added another; "there's no mistakin' the true blood." "Who is he," asked a third "Does nobody know him?" "Troth," said the other, "it doesn't signify a traneen who or what he is; whether he's gentle or simple, I say that the whole country ought to put their heads under his feet." "Why so, Jemmy Trailcudgel," asked a fourth; "what did he do for the counthry?"
'When we come clear o' the town there was a long stretch o' clear road to cover, an' we was ploddin' down this when we hears the hum o' an airyplane. The Left'nant squints up an' "It's a Tawb," he sez. "Beggin' your pardon sir," I told 'im, "but it's a German. No mistakin' them bird-shaped wings an' tail. He's a German, sure enough."
"Are ye sure?" he said to Gueldmar. "Are ye sure that wee chap kens whaur he's gaun? He'll no lead us into a ditch an' leave us there, mistakin' it for the Fall?" Gueldmar laughed heartily. "Never fear! Sigurd's the best guide you can have, in spite of his fancies. He knows all the safest and surest paths; and Njedegorze is no easy place to reach, I can tell you!" "Pardon!
"A dog's doin', and no mistakin' thot," said Jim at length, after a minute inspection. "Ay," declared the Master with slow emphasis, "and a sheep-dog's too, and an old un's, or I'm no shepherd." The postman looked up. "Why thot?" he asked, puzzled. "Becos," the Master answered, "'im as did this killed for blood and for blood only.
Of course there are some who say that the amount of work that you and your brother do any day would not break the Sabbath." Here she looked hard at her man, John Corbett, who stirred uneasily. "But there is no mistakin' your meanin', and besides," Mrs. Corbett went on, "we have others besides ourselves to think of there's the child," indicating the lanky Peter Rockett.
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