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He played her as his only card. "Me mudder sez I dasn' go swimmin' widout she leaves me." "Good for you, Joe," said Townsend, "I'll see your mother next week and fix it. And you do just what she told you to do till then. You've got the right idea, Joe." And he hit Joe a good rap on the shoulder in his friendly way . . .
She continued her lament. "She had a bad heart, dat girl did, Jimmie. She was wicked teh deh heart an' we never knowed it." Jimmie nodded, admitting the fact. "We lived in deh same house wid her an' I brought her up an' we never knowed how bad she was." Jimmie nodded again. "Wid a home like dis an' a mudder like me, she went teh deh bad," cried the mother, raising her eyes.
"Sho'," she was saying, "I done gwine by de windah with ma baby cab full o' cloes, an' dis yer white chile done come tumblin' down an' fall right in ma cab. Now, what do you think o' dat? I reckon I was nevah so done clean skeert afoah in ma life. An' ef de chile didn't grab one of ma bolognas and done git out de cab an' run around de house." "Oh," cried Silvia, "poor little baby! Come to mudder.
"Geo'ge, your mudder wants you." Such were the words which aroused George Foster from a reverie one morning as he stood at the window of a villa on the coast of Kent, fastening his necktie and contemplating the sea. "Nothing wrong, I hope," said the middy, turning quickly round, and regarding with some anxiety the unusually solemn visage of Peter the Great.
Seems like it was only yesterday or the day before that I heern the Old Man callin', "Mudder, mudder, I wanter tell you sumfin'," and that I seen him put his arms around her neck 'nd whisper softly to her. It had been an open winter, 'nd there wuz fever all around us. The Baxters lost their little girl, and Homer Thompson's children had all been taken down.
Jes keep on, an' yer'll see wat'll happen ter yer; yer'll wake up some er deze mornins, an, yer won't have no hyear on yer head. I knowed er little gal onct wat sassed her mudder, an' de Lord he sent er angel in de night, he did, an' struck her plum' bald-headed." "You ain't none o' my mother," replied Dumps.
I should have thought this wig, these clothes, would have concealed me." "Sartain," answered the aged Indian, calmly. "Know young chief soon as see him; know fader know mudder; know gran'fader, gran'mudder great-gran'fader; his fader, too; know all. Why forget young chief?" "Did you know me before I kissed my grandmother's hand, or only by that act?" "Know as soon as see him.
I bought him off a feller what moved away, an' I keeps de goat in Sullivan's livery stable. But I have to pay a dollar a month, an' so I began givin' de boys an' girls around here rides for two cents to pay for Billy's keep. But I can't do dat when I goes to work, so me mudder says I must sell 'im. I don't want to, but I has to."
I say, 'Never see poor little baby brudder again, never again! An' I love little brudder. Then I go mission school. Teacher say, 'Louie Ming, love Jesus, an' some day you see your baby brudder again. O, teacher make me so happy! See little brudder again! I go home and tell my mudder. She not believe, but I get teacher to come and tell. She tell about Jesus to my fadder and mudder.
He should be a writer." "Not on your life!" cried Ptolemy with feeling. "I want to live things instead of writing about them." A tear or two came into Silvia's eyes. "It was very sweet in you, Ptolemy, to try to get the money for mudder." I felt that all this commendation was bad for Ptolemy, and that it was up to me to take a reef in his sails.
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