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Updated: May 6, 2025
Oh, Mammy, let us all go after him," she begged with flashing eyes. "We can catch the bad wicked man." "No," said Mrs. Pepper, firmly, "not a single one of you must stir out of this house unless I tell you. And as for bread, why, we can do without it so long as Joel is safe." "Phooh!" said Joel, "he didn't hurt me any," just as Polly got the last knot out that tied his arms.
"Phooh!" said Joel a few mornings after the emptying of the little brown house into the big one, when he and Van were rehearsing for the fiftieth time all the points of the eventful night, "phooh! if I'd been here they wouldn't have got away, I guess!" "What would you have done?" asked Van, bristling up at this reflection on their courage, and squaring up to him.
"Phooh!" exclaimed Joel, "it wasn't worth finding out, that old secret. But it's as good as girls ever get up," he finished with a supercilious air. "It was a perfectly splendid play!" cried Alexia, "and much too good for a lot of boys. Goodness, Joey, I wouldn't celebrate if you four were coming home from school to our house. I'd have the jollification the night before you went back."
"Phooh; he did!" exclaimed Joel, looking over his shoulder at a wonderful view of a dog in an extremely excited state of mind running down an interminable hill to bark at a locomotive and train of cars whizzing along a curve in the foreground. "Lots better'n that! Ben can do anything!" he added, in an utterly convincing way. "Now give it back," cried Percy, holding out his hand in alarm.
"Why, I thought he'd broken your head, Terry?" "Phooh! that's nothing? A piece o' plaster'll set all to rights; and Terry O'Flaherty's not the boy to care for the stroke of a supple-jack. Besides, didn't I tell you that I giv' him as good as he brought and better!
"Ah, phooh!" he said, indicating the end of his speech by dropping the stump of his cigarette into the sand on the floor and softly spitting upon it, "le Shylock de la rue Carondelet!" and then in English, not to lose the admiration of the Irish waiter: "He don't want to haugment me! I din hass 'im, because the 'lection. But you juz wait till dat firce of Jannawerry!"
One was a god, the other was an angel; one the poet that feels, the other the poet that expresses a prophet in sorrow, a levite in prayer. They went out together without speaking. "Did you mark how he called him to him?" cried the sergeant of the watch when the footsteps of the couple were no longer audible on the strand. "Are not they a demon and his familiar?" "Phooh!" puffed Jacqueline.
Scogan went on, "that they possess nothing more than a back and a title?" He opened the cupboard door and peeped inside, as though he hoped to find the rest of the books behind it. "Phooh!" he said, and shut the door again. "It smells of dust and mildew. How symbolical!
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