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'Twas only last wik as that young upstart, Doctor Hodges, comes an' threatens me with persecution as a rogue an' vagabond, a-obtainin' money under false pertences for practisin' my lawful an' necessary art. Why, it ain't so long since I cured his mother o' the rheumatiz, as is more nor he can dew, wi' all his drugs, an' the pestle an' mortar o'er his door.
"In the garden, practisin' walkin' all by 'imself." "Was that the only time?" "Only time I've 'eard 'im." "Was it lately?" "'Bout six weeks ago." "And he has never made a sound otherwise, cried, laughed?" "'Ardly. 'E gives a sort o' grunt sometimes, when 'e wants anything and points." "He's very intelligent." "Worse than that, 'e's a freak, I tell you."
Everybody was sayin', 'What's that? and nobody could answer 'em till Sam Crawford went to town one Saturday jest before the fair, and come back with the whole thing at his tongue's end. Sam heard that they was practisin' for the t'u'nament that evenin', and as he passed the fair grounds on his way home, he made a p'int of goin' in and seein' what they was about.
The act appeared to relieve his companion, who with his eyes still turned towards the window went on: "Ef you'd had them books which you haven't I had it in my mind to ask you suthen'. I had an idea of of sort of reviewing my eddication. Kinder going over the old books agin jist to pass the time. Sorter running in yer arter school hours and doin' a little practisin', eh?
I'm black but dey's a heap o' trouble come out o' ink bottles befo' to-day! "I done had my eye on Frances! An' fur de las' endurin' week I taken notice ev'ry time we had a choir practisin', Frances, she'd fetch in some talk about butterflies bein' a Easter sign o' de resurrection o' de dead, an' all sech as dat.
Why didn't you obey my signals to heave-to?" "Signals! I never see no signals." "How dare you, sir! you know I fired." "Oh, them! We thought you was practisin', and hauled down till you'd done, for the balls was flying very near." "Where are you from?" "From? Nowheres. We been out all night fishing." "What's your port?" "Shoreham." "And what have you on board? Who are those people?"
"I thought you said you was practisin' on Injuns." "Injuns is human. For a fact! I've learned a heap in this business. Not that I wouldn't bust one if I needed him, but it ain't necessary. Come, I'll show you." This here town had more heathens than whites in it, and before we'd gone a block I seen a buck Injun and his squaw idlin' along, lookin' into the store winders.
"Christine!" she called reprovingly. "Whatever will that girl sing next?" Uncle Neil, who was drying his hands on the roller towel at the door, laughed indulgently. "It isn't jist the kind of a hymn that would do for prayer-meeting," he said. "Hi, Christine! Is that a new psalm tune you're practisin'?" But, Christina and her song had disappeared into the spring house.
He's just practisin' a new piece for his club to-night. Ackroyd advanced into the parlour. The table was spread for tea, and at the tray sat Mrs. Bower's daughter, Mary. She was a girl of nineteen, sparely made, and rather plain-featured, yet with a thoughtful, interesting face.
"Now let's put it right up, an' then we can build our ring, an' do our practisin' there instead of goin' up to the pasture," suggested Ben.
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