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Updated: June 20, 2025
Every one turned toward a boy of five or six, round as a baby chicken, in his fuzzy miniature pajamas, protectingly holding a cotton monkey under his arm, sturdy and shy and defiant. "Why, Arthur!" "Why, my son!" "Oh, the darling baby!" from the table.
"Well, ain't that abslooshly abdominable." Prissy began to cry softly. He knew the pangs of an author circumvented by a plagiarist. The next morning his head ached and he rang up an eye-opener or two. The valet found him in violet pajamas, holding his jangling head and moaning: "There was too much sugar in the punch."
These I placed in a drawer of the bureau, and, turning the key, dropped it into the pocket of my pajamas. And at that moment the bell rang violently. "I went to the door and admitted a police constable and the cook. The latter looked at me with evident fear and horror and the constable said, somewhat sternly: "'This young woman tells me there's something wrong here, sir.
He was in the secret and he afterward said that he would rather try to write a Shakespearean tragedy offhand than to write another funeral oration about a man who he knew was at that moment sitting in a pair of pajamas in an upper room half a mile away and yelling for pie. As a matter of fact, there were so many in the secret that we were dead afraid that it would explode.
With a dizzy sense of stars dancing as lawlessly as rocket sparks and dying as quickly into blackness, I lost all hold on consciousness. Pongee pajamas and a revolver belt constitute a light equipment even for the tropics, but that was the least pressing of my concerns.
Knight rushed into her husband's presence like a destroying angel. Jim followed in his pajamas. She was more disheveled than ever, her eyes were rolling, her cheeks were livid, her hair seemed to bristle from its fastenings. She was panting in a labored effort to relieve her feelings. "What's the matter, ma?" "Matter? Hell! That was Hannibal Wharton!" stormed the invalid.
"Hold on!" called some one from inside the near tent; "I can't find part of my pajamas; and it'd be too cool to sleep with only half on. Now ain't it funny why it's always my things that get taken? Just like I was going to be a target for all the fun that's going."
Val dropped his pajamas in a huddle by the bed and dressed leisurely, feeling very much at peace with this new world. Perhaps that was the last time he was to feel so for many days to come. He stole cautiously out of his room and tiptoed down halls and dark stairs, wanting to be alone while he discovered Pirate's Haven for himself.
I slid up the window-shade and sat blinking at a flood of sunshine. "Telegram?" I said, yawning and rubbing my eyes. "Let me have it. All right, I'll be out presently. Shut that curtain! I don't want the entire car to criticise my pink pajamas!" "Ain' nobody in de cyar, 'scusin yo'se'f, suh," grinned the porter, retiring.
I enjoyed it immensely when it first came out and it makes a splendid head-rest. I'll go and get into my pajamas while you are arranging the things." He went off to his adjacent bedroom and I piled up the ponderous volumes on the table and drew up the armchair. When he returned, I wrapped him in a couple of thick rugs and settled him in his chair.
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