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Updated: June 4, 2025
An odd tone in his voice made Uncle Billy look up. "No," he said quickly, shying with the instinct of an easy pleasure-loving nature from a possible grave situation. "No, I don't think he ever got the color! But wot are ye moonin' about for? Ain't ye goin' to play? It's mor' 'n half past nine now."
Why, lan' sakes, Mis' McGuire, if all things happened that my bones told me was goin' to happen, there wouldn't none of us be livin' by now, nor the sun shinin', nor the moon moonin'. I found out, after awhile, how they DIDN'T happen half the time, an' I wrote a poem on it, like this: Trust 'em not, them fickle bones, Always talkin' moans an' groans.
But there's one thing sure: I'll 'ear no more of your moonin', mullygrubbin' rot, and tyke it stryte. The captain took it with a blink and a gulp. Memory, with phantom voices, repeated in his cars something similar, something he had once said to Herrick years ago it seemed. 'Now, gimme over your pistol, said Huish. 'I 'ave to see all clear. Six shots, and mind you don't wyste them.
Go or st'y w'ere you are; I don't mind; I'm goin' to see that man and chuck this vitriol in his eyes. If you st'y I'll go alone; the niggers will likely knock me on the 'ead, and a fat lot you'll be the better! But there's one thing sure: I'll 'ear no more of your moonin' mullygrubbin' rot, and tyke it stryte." The captain took it with a blink and a gulp.
Well, I guess he'll find SOME one has got to think of him now. But there! that's what you might expect of Daniel Burton, I s'pose, moonin' all day over those silly pictures of his. As my John says " "They're not silly pictures," cut in Susan, flaring into instant wrath. "He HAS to paint pictures in order to get money to live, don't he? Well, then, let him paint.
"But there be no company this Christmas," said the custodian, "and 'is lordship does not entertain, unless it be the new fool 'is lordship sent down 'ere to-day, who has been mopin' and moonin' in the corridors, as is ever the way of these wittol creatures when they are not heeded. He was 'ere in a rare motley of his own choosing, with which he thinks to raise a laugh, a moment ago.
Nothing was said to either Grace or Nora until that evening, when the two Overland men confided their plans to their wives. Next morning, before the camp was astir, the Indian had awakened Lieutenant Wingate and the man and the Indian had ridden away in the dark of the early morning. "What ye moonin' 'bout?" demanded Joe Shafto, giving Nora Wingate a prod with a long bony finger.
"Bibbs might 'a' kept goin' on over there the rest of his life, moonin' on and on, but what he heard Sibyl say did one big thing, anyway. It woke him up out of his trance. Well, he had to go and bust clean out with a bang; and that stopped his goin' over there, and it stopped his poetry, but I reckon he's begun to get pretty fair pay for what he lost.
To walk, I cal'late. Last I see of him he was moonin' along over towards the lighthouse way." Primmie departed and Martha, alone in the gathering dimness of the afternoon, resumed her thinking. It was an endless round, that thinking of hers but, of course, it could end in but one way. Even to wish such things was wicked. For his sake, that was what Mr. Cabot had said.
"Why not, girl?" "It's he as works for himself and cares for himself and for no one else, does Pierre," said the girl. "Comin' a moonin' round and pretending he's after courting me, when all he wants, with takin' the fish round and that, is to get the custom into his own hands, and tells folks, if he had the ordering of it, there'd be no fear about them getting their fish punctual."
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