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Updated: June 13, 2025
"I had heard no inkling of this, Comrade Maloney. I had always imagined you one of those strong, rugged, blood-and-iron men who were above the softer emotions. Who is she?" "Aw, she's a kid," said Pugsy. "Her pa runs a delicatessen shop down our street. She ain't a bad mutt," added the ardent swain. "I'm her steady."
He turned listlessly to the sporting sheet, read Doctor Crane's crop of seasoned bromides, took in an editorial on ambition with his mouth slightly ajar, and then skipped to Mutt and Jeff. Poor Charley with his faint aura of evil and his mind that refused to focus, playing a lifeless solitaire with cast-off mischief. Yet Charley belonged on the other side of the fence.
She raised herself from the floor for with a confused idea that she would be safer there she had flung herself down and, having dusted her skirt with a few decisive dabs of her strong left hand, addressed herself once more to business. "I let 'm bluff me with a fake bomb!" she commented bitterly. She brooded on this for a moment. "Say, shut th't door 'gain, some one, and t'run this mutt out.
"I suppose," she went on, "I'll find everything here fearfully Western. Some nice people called yesterday, though. Do you know the Magsworth Bittses? Auntie says they're charming. Will Roddy be at your party?" "I guess he will," returned Penrod, finding this intelligible. "The mutt!" "Really!" Fanchon exclaimed airily. "Aren't you great pals with him?" "What's 'pals'?" "Good heavens!
"No, I mean what does he eat when he's home?" "It seems to be a sort of syrup, made from the juices of jungle plants, which they drag in on automatic conveyors and process on automatic machinery. But he's a funny mutt hard to get. Some of his thoughts are lucid enough, but others we can't make out at all they are so foreign to all human nature that they simply do not register as thoughts at all.
Johnny, hold him to one side there and mind your legs. Here comes Miss Marie for her first lesson, and that mutt of a husband of hers can't handle her." Michael did not understand the scene that followed, which he witnessed, for the youth led him over to look on at the arranging of the woman and the four horses. Yet, from her conduct, he sensed that she, too, was captive and ill-treated.
He says, "The Big Wind" ain't to blame much for thinking he's the white-haired darlin', he says, 'because his friends should put him wise that he ain't. And Tony Gaston, what drives oner Jimmy Duggan's coal-wagons, he says, 'The Bigga de Wind is an awful mutt, so he ups and asks why don't Jimmy Duggan run, so Pa says 'Carried, and Tommy Watson makes 'em do it all reg'lar, and they forms the People's Party and puts Jimmy Duggan up for their man."
It seems as if the conscious humorists, the professional funny writers, had the shortest lease of literary life. They play their little comic parts before a well-disposed but restless audience which is already impatiently waiting for some other "turn." One of them makes a hit with a song or story, just as a draughtsman for a Sunday colored supplement makes a hit with his "Mutt and Jeff."
"Do you have to take that mutt ... never mind, go ahead." The boy wandered off to the side of the road and Phil listened to the rustle of bushes, wondering at his own irritation. He felt ill at ease, anxious to be away. He started as Timmy came up beside him on the left of the car. "That was quick." "Yeah."
They composed his favorite literature and art, these illustrated chronicles in which Mr. Mutt hit Mr. Jeff with a rotten egg, and Mother corrected Father's vulgarisms by means of a rolling-pin. With the solemn face of a devotee, breathing heavily through his open mouth, he plodded nightly through every picture, and during the rite he detested interruptions.
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