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Updated: May 1, 2025
"Ain't I done something for the mountings?" he asked; "I know what some folks think about me, little Miss Cyn, but you be a right peart miss, and I ask you straight and true wouldn't things be worse, bad as they be, if I didn't take folks and pay 'em?
Suddenly she brought her heels together and alighted. "So that's all?" she asked. "Yes." "Kin I go now?" "Yes." She laid her books one on the top of the other and lingered an instant. "Been quite well?" she asked with indolent politeness. "Yes thank you." "You're lookin' right peart."
"Can't ye get the poor critter some whiskey?" he queried, fretfully. "Ye used to be peart enuff before." As Flip turned to the corner to lift the demijohn, Fairley took occasion to kick the squaw with his foot, and indicate by extravagant pantomime that the bargain was not to be alluded to before the girl. Flip poured out some whiskey in a tin cup, and, approaching the squaw, handed it to her.
"I'm sprack," said Jan, confidently. "And I be fond of pigs." "Massey upon me," said Master Salter, laughing again. "Tis a peart young toad, sartinly. A might be fifty year old, for the ways of un. Well, thee shall have a shilling and thee tea, or one and sixpence without, then." And seeing that Jan glanced involuntarily at the table, the farmer added, "Give un some now, missus.
"Never you mind, honey, never you mind. Don't you git too peart. It's a-comin'. Mind I tell you, it's a-comin'." It did come, too. It was a Tuesday that we had that talk. Well, after dinner Friday we was laying around in the grass at the upper end of the ridge, and got out of tobacco. I went to the cavern to get some, and found a rattlesnake in there.
"As for my own peart, measter," continued this charitable publican, "I believes as how they are no better than they should be, else they wouldn't be in such a deadly fear of being overtaken. Methinks, said I, when I saw them in such a woundy pother to be gone, oddsheartlikins! this must be some London 'prentice running away with his measter's daughter, as sure as I'm a living soul.
"He doesn't take to farm work; an' he's that peart I durstn't speak to him. Queer thing if we've got to keep the young upstart in idleness." "Idleness!" quoth Miss Hepsy wrathfully. "I'd take a rope's end to him if he didn't keep a civil tongue in his head.
I'm the gardeen, and I don't keer two cents fer life. It's a shadder, and a mush-room, as I writ some varses about it wonst. Let me say 'em over: "Life's a shadder, Never mind it. A cloud kivers up the sun And whar is yer shadder gone? Ye'll hey to be peart to find it! "Life's a ladder What about it? You've clim half-way t' the top, Down comes yer ladder ke-whop! You can't scrabble up without it!
When John Pike had suffered this very bravely, "Ah, Master Pike," said the blacksmith, with a grin, "I reckon you won't pull out thic there big vish," the smithy commanded a view of the river, "clever as you be, quite so peart as thiccy." "What big fish?" asked the boy, with deepest interest, though his mouth was bleeding fearfully.
Dat's de tribble wid dis yer worl'; w'en hit change yo' fortune hit don' look ter changin' yo' skin es well." "That's true; but you're doing all right, I hope?" "I dunno, Marse Tuck," replied Uncle Isam, coughing as a sudden spurt of smoke issued from the old stone chimney. "I dunno 'bout dat. Times dey's right peart, but I ain't. De vittles dey's ready ter do dar tu'n, but de belly, hit ain't."
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