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"I can't say when I've et a cantelope but, Oh Lord, I has a hankerin' for eggs! I tell Jackson the next time he ships he's gotta take me along, for I want to git out where I can git my mitt on a pair of eggs." "We became quite surfeited with eggs, Phidias and I," observed Mrs. Symes with an air of ennui. Mrs. Jackson blinked.
She didn't kill him!" "No, she didn't!" and Tibbetts appeared in the library doorway. "I did it myself." "That's right!" and Fibsy's eyes gleamed satisfaction; "she did! It's her fingermarks on the knife that stabbed old Schuyler. They're plain as print! Nobody thought of matching up those marks with Tibbetts's mitt! But I'll bet she did it to save Mrs. Schuyler's life!"
"Just gaze on that hand -as big as a baseball mitt! "And look at my neck!" came dolefully from the doctor's son. A few of the hornets were buzzing around the fallen carcass of the bear and the young hunters did not dare to approach until the pests had departed. Then the drag was righted and the journey down the mountainside was continued.
There was just a possibility that Tim might come around. He had to speak to him. Tim came at last, but without his catcher's mitt. He stood around with his hands in his pockets and had very little to say. His mouth was a trifle tight, and his eyes rather hard. "When shall we go into the woods for that signaling?" Don asked. Tim shrugged his shoulders. "Monday or Tuesday?"
"I'm glad you have quit it," approved Bobby soberly. "I suppose the next thing I'll hear will be the wedding bells." "No!" Biff denied in a tone so pained and shocked that Bobby looked up in surprise to see his face gone pale. "Don't talk about that, Bobby. Why, I wouldn't dare even think of it myself. I I never think about it. Me? with a mitt like a picnic ham? Did you ever see her hand, Bobby?
"Harms is settin' in the lobby readin' the dope-sheet. I pipes him off 'n' he don't look good to me fur a minute, but I goes over 'n' shakes his mitt. "'Well, Blister, old scout, how're they breakin'? he says. "'So, so, I says. "'That right? he says. 'I hears different. Fishhead Peters tells me they've got you on the ropes. "'What th' hell does that gassy Fishhead know about me? I says.
"Bo," exclaimed the Spider, rising reverently and taking a step toward Joe's massive figure, quite forgetful of the pink hearthrug now, "you don't have t' tell me nothin'. I guess I know th' best all-round fightin' man, the greatest champion as ever swung a mitt, when I see him! T' shake his hand'll sure be "
Since he is not here, I trust that you will bear with me if, as a friend and neighbor, as one who is proud to share with you the common blessing of being a resident of the great city of Zenith, I tell you in all candor, honesty, and sincerity how the issues of this critical campaign appear to one plain man of business to one who, brought up to the blessings of poverty and of manual labor, has, even when Fate condemned him to sit at a desk, yet never forgotten how it feels, by heck, to be up at five-thirty and at the factory with the ole dinner-pail in his hardened mitt when the whistle blew at seven, unless the owner sneaked in ten minutes on us and blew it early!
He held out a hand from which he removed his fur mitt. Bat turned. He saw the hand, and disregarded it in a surge of feeling. "Tell 'em? Tell 'em?" he cried. "Say, Les, for God Almighty's sake don't you pull out. You're my friend. You're the one feller in the world that matters a curse to me. Quit boy. Stop right here, an' " "Will you tell 'em?"
They started down the lawn, and I was sure they'd get to you before I could. Only then Joe and Chuck stepped out of the bushes not ten yards from where I'd been hiding, and yelled to the lads to hold fast and get their hands high. Steve stepped around the corner of the barn with a .45 in his mitt and emphasized the point. Lefty and company got the idea and skidded to a stop with all brakes locked.
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