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Updated: June 27, 2025
So she does Rob and Ike and Pete and the whole healthy, ramping train who fill the Pitkin farm- house with a racket of boots and boys. So she has made every one a tart with his initial on it and a saucy motto or two, "just to keep them from being conceited, you know."
"Dear child, there is no writing to him." "Oh, dear! that's the worst. Oh, that horrid, horrid sea! It's like death you don't know where they are, and you can't hear from them and a four years' voyage! Oh, dear! oh, dear!" "Don't, dear child, don't; you distress me," said Mrs. Pitkin. "Yes, that's just like me," said Diana, wiping her eyes.
"You here!" exclaimed Pitkin, scowling. "You needn't ask to be taken back. It's no use." "I don't ask it," answered Phil. "Then what are you here for?" "I would like a letter of recommendation, that I may obtain another place." "Well, well!" said Pitkin, wagging his head. "If that isn't impudence." "What is impudence?" asked Phil.
"Roosters an' risin' suns don't mean anything," said he judicially. "An emblem ought to mean something to the public it ought to stand for something." "Yes," said Pitkin, "but what can I get that will sort of identify me and my horses?" "Well," said the old man, "mebbe I can suggest a dee-sign that'll fill the bill." He picked up a bit of shingle and drew a pencil from his pocket.
He nodded to Waite, Pitkin and the others as he at last released Sally's waist, and crossed over to the hearth to warm and dry himself: as he did so, he cast a quick, somewhat suspicious glance at the two strangers, who had quietly resumed their game of dominoes, and for a moment a look of deep earnestness, even of anxiety, clouded his jovial young face.
One retort led to another, and when Mulligan ran out of retorts he responded with a piece of 2 by 4 scantling which he had been saving for just such an emergency, and Pitkin lost interest in the conversation.
Sally!" came in cheerful if none too melodious accents from the coffee-room close by. "Lud bless my soul!" exclaimed Sally, with a good-humoured laugh, "what be they all wanting now, I wonder!" "Beer, of course," grumbled Jemima, "you don't 'xpect Jimmy Pitkin to 'ave done with one tankard, do ye?" "Mr.
Carter, he was an object of attention to the clerks, who knew that he had been discharged by Mr. Pitkin. Yet here he was, dressed in a new suit provided with a watch, and wearing every mark of prosperity. One of the most surprised was Mr. G. Washington Wilbur, with whom, as an old friend, Phil stopped to chat. "Is old Pitkin going to take you back?" he inquired. "No," answered Phil promptly.
Such an address from a person less than three years older than himself came near upsetting the gravity of Phil. "Is Mr. Pitkin in?" he asked. "Yes, I believe so." "Can I see him." "I have no objection," remarked the young man facetiously. "Where shall I find him?" The youth indicated a small room partitioned off as a private office in the extreme end of the store.
"You'd have to pay him too high wages," Ben said to himself. "A strong, capable boy like you could give me all the help I need." "I expect I could," said Ben demurely. "I was sayin' to Mrs. Pitkin this mornin' that I thought it would be a good plan to take you till you was twenty-one." "What did she say?" asked Ben, interested.
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