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Madelon nodded. "Where's yours?" "I can't have him." Dexter Beers still moved on with curious lateral twirls of his shoulders and heaves of his great chest, with its row of shining waistcoat buttons. "Pooty cold day for a sleigh-ride," he observed, with a great steam of breath. "I'll pay you well for the horse," said Madelon, in a hard voice. She followed him into the stable.
Finally, one of the men, having none of her reasons for keeping still, came forth with a direct question. "I reckon you got out to Roarin' Falls all safe with that there pooty gal, didn't ye?" he asked. It was Joe Follansbee who had sought this information, being only too eager to hint at something wrong on the part of a man he had long deemed a rival.
Carl sat in the chair watching his prisoner, and soon saw Farley's chest heaving regularly and heard his deep breathing as he slept. Then things seemed to waver and fade away. Carl started up at hearing some one beating on the door, and sat rubbing his eyes. It was broad daylight. "All right, I'll get up pooty soon yet. Is preakfast retty?" "Here, open the door. This is Ted." "Vait a minute."
Get down off that wheel before you break your neck. "Lor' bress your heart, Mah'sr Harry, is ye got a bed? I never did 'spect ye was a-goin' to bring furniture," cried Aunt Judy, her eyes rolling up and down in astonishment and delight. "Dat's a pooty cheer. Won't hurt a body to sot in dat cheer when you all ain't a-usin' it, will it?"
"Now bless thee, bless thee, bless thee, sweet innocent, I would not change thee for e'en a cherub in heaven." "At's pooty," replied the infant, ignoring contemptuously, after the manner of infants, all remarks that did not interest him. "What is pretty here, my love, besides thee?" "Ookum-gars, said the boy, pointing to the hermit's breastplate. "Quot liberi, tot sententiunculae!"
He nodded curtly and sprang into the carriage; but the old man, pressing close to the wheel, so that it could not move without throwing him, said something in a half-whisper, as if he were ashamed of it. "Certainly, certainly, very soon," replied Carroll, with some impatience. "I need it pooty bad," the old man said, abashedly. "Very soon, I tell you," repeated Carroll. "I cannot stop now."
It was his cousin Jonathan. Jonathan was a loose-jointed, heavily built, and awkward boy of seventeen, bearing not the slightest resemblance to his cousin Frank. Still he was a relation, and our hero was glad to see him. "How are you, Jonathan?" said Frank, cordially. "I wasn't expecting to see you. Are all well at home?" "They're pooty smart," answered Jonathan.
He had little to say of the drawing or dining-rooms, which he described as "spacious"; but fell into such raptures as he permitted to a man of his dignity, in the wine-cellar, to which he descended by stone steps, Bosinney going first with a light. "You'll have room here," he said, "for six or seven hundred dozen a very pooty little cellar!"
He may be all right; but I don't like his looks, 'n' I don't see what he's lurkin' raoun' the Institoot for, after folks is abed." "Have you watched him pretty close for the last few days?" said the Doctor. "W'll, yes, I've had my eye on him consid'ble o' the time. I haf to be pooty shy abaout it, or he'll find aout th't I'm on his tracks.
"Mais j'adore les bonbons, moi," said the little Sylphide, with a queer piteous look. "I can buy a hatful at Fortnum and Mason's for a guinea. And it shall have its bonbons, its pooty little sugar-plums, that it shall," Pen said with a bitter smile. "Nay, my dear, nay, my dearest little Blanche, don't cry.
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