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Mrs. Lester is away at her daughter-in-law's." "Hain't ye never thought poo! poo! hohum! wal, wal hain't ye never thought o' Miss Pray?" "In what way, captain?" "Wal, as a poo! poo! as a pertick'lar spear, ye know?" "No."
Dis am not all what's to come ob it. You see, I has pity on your poo' heart, so I t'ink you might go ebery oder day an' hab a good look at your fadder; but how kin you go if you not know whar he works? So I tooked you to show you de way.
"Ah'll tell you what let's do, Miss Leighton: you make some pictures, and Ah'll wrahte a book fo' them. Ah've got to do something. Ali maght as well wrahte a book. You know we Southerners have all had to go to woak. But Ah don't mand it. I tell papa I shouldn't ca' fo' the disgrace of bein' poo' if it wasn't fo' the inconvenience."
"Yes, it's inconvenient," said Alma; "but you forget it when you're at work, don't you think?" "Mah, yes! Perhaps that's one reason why poo' people have to woak so hawd-to keep their wands off their poverty." The girls both tittered, and turned from talking in a low tone with their backs toward their elders, and faced them. "Well, Madison," said Mr. Woodburn, "it is time we should go.
He became so excited at the prospect of seeing a play of his performed at a West End theatre that he was unable to sit still, and his language, always extravagant, became absurd. He broke every rule that Roger had invented. "It'll take all the royalties you'll receive to pay off this score!" Roger said, thrusting the fine-book before him. "Poo!" said Gilbert.
Mon seigneur! cried the master of the hotel; but recollecting himself as he made the exclamation, he instantly changed the tone of it. Not that I know of, quoth I, with an air of indifference. Then certes, replied he, you'll be sent to the Bastile or the Chatelet au moins. Poo! said I, the King of France is a good natur'd soul: he'll hurt nobody.
There is no end, Sire, replied the minister, in giving money to these people they would swallow up the treasury of France. Poo! poo! answered the king there are more ways, Mons. le Premier, of bribing states, besides that of giving money I'll pay Switzerland the honour of standing godfather for my next child.
Old Purchas in his "Pilgrims" tells of a sacred caste in India who, when they go out into the street, cry out, "Poo! Poo!" to warn all the world out of their way lest they should be defiled by something unclean. And it is just so that the understanding in its pride of success thinks to pooh-pooh all that it considers impractical and visionary.
He was amazed and his own good humour gave way to fierce resentment. What right had these ruffians to laugh at the misfortunes of that unhappy maid? "At the Poo quarries, seventeen kilometers down the line. They cut out a few empties there. She goes on to the division point after that." "Any trains up from that direction this morning?" demanded "Newport." "Not till this afternoon.
"When ye see a poo' man be sure to give him crumbsorum, Lord bress de Lamb glory hallelugerum! Lord bress de Lamb!" At the end of this interminable refrain, drawn out in a youthful nasal contralto, Fleming knocked. The girl instantly appeared, holding the ring in her fingers. "I reckoned it was you," she said, with an affected briskness, to conceal her evident dislike at parting with the trinket.
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