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Updated: May 2, 2025
Han grew quite animated. "It was the best ever! They had about a dozen kinds of salad, and cold meats all over the place, and sandwiches and cakes and ice-cream and ices and coffee and " "Oh, shut up!" begged Ossie almost tearfully. "It was bully! Were you there when we chased the burglars?" "When you what?" asked Wink. "Chased the burglars, I said. Mr.
The pudding was never eaten, unless the fish consumed it, and the mention of it still caused Ossie great pain and humiliation.
"I suppose," said Perry disgustedly, "they close all the stores early so they can go to the movies. I wish now we'd had some soda at that drug store where the man had insomnia." "We've got food on board," said Ossie. "I'll fix up some sandwiches. I wish you'd get enough to eat for once, though," he added as he took his place in the dingey. "Don't they ever feed you at home, Perry?"
The others, struggling into life-belts, clung to the stanchions or whatever they could find. Steve crawled back with the coil, drenched and breathless. "We've got to get off, fellows," he said. "It's only a dozen yards to the beach and we can make it all right. Close every hatch. Ossie, fetch a can of biscuits. See that the lid's tight."
Drummond's wrath got the better of his speech and he only sputtered, waving an accusing finger at the retreating Perry. Wink was already glancing about for a means of escape and Ossie was frankly deserting. "I I didn't know!" gasped Perry. "I we saw you come in and you looked like like a " "You've said that already!" said the man, "Never mind my criminal looks, young man!"
"I was having a bully time, too," he muttered disconsolately. "That's a shame," said Ossie sympathetically. "When will you have to go?" "He wants me to meet him in New York Sunday. He sails early Monday morning. I suppose I'll have to go tomorrow. Guess I'd better get a time table and see how the trains run." "Gee, I'm sorry," murmured Ossie.
"Nothing to cook but breakfast," he said ecstatically, "and real food the other two meals! Gee, but it's fine to eat something some other poor duffer has cooked! Say, Joe, what is it that pigs have that kills them off in bunches: sort of a an epidemic?" "Hog cholera," hazarded Joe. "Aren't you feeling well, Ossie?" "Well, I wish they'd all have it," said Ossie devoutly.
"You sure do," agreed Wink. "Let's move along. If the Corwin family gets in there ahead of us we might just as well pull in our belts and beat it." "Let's go in through here," said Perry. "It's nearer, I guess." He started toward the first window. "Oh, we'd better not," Ossie objected. "They might not like it." "Piffle! They'll be tickled to death. They like folks to see their pretties."
There was always the graphophone, although they were destined to become rather tired of the records, and Steve, Joe, Han and Neil played whist most of the afternoon. Phil curled up on a couch and read, and Ossie and Perry, after having a violent argument over the proper way to make an omelet decided to settle the question then and there.
"And I hope that poison-ivy gets you good and hard!" "I don't believe it took," replied Han gently, "Maybe it wasn't poison-ivy, after all!" At that instant the outraged countenance of Ossie appeared in the companion way. "What," he demanded irately of Perry, "do you mean by bringing back half a gallon of sour milk?"
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