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Updated: May 20, 2025
'Fer one thing, he said, deliberately, 'nobody'll die there, 'less he'd ought to; don't believe there's goin' t' be any need o' swearin' er quarrellin'. To my way o' thinkin' it'll be a good deal like Dave Brower's farm nice, smooth land and no stun on it, an' hills an' valleys an' white clover aplenty, an' wheat an' corn higher'n a man's head.
"When men git to quarrellin' about timber, you never can tell where they'll stop, Mrs. Jack. I've knowed some wild times in the woods in the past." The man in the dink was Lefty Howe. He pulled in beside the float. When he stepped up on the planks, he limped perceptibly. "Land alive, what happened yuh, Lefty?" his wife cried. "Got a rap on the leg with a peevy," he said. "Nothin' much."
They are all divided into sects, railin', quarrellin', separatin', and agreein' in nothin', but hatin' each other. It is awful to think on. T'other family will some day or other gather them all up, put them into a bundle and bind them up tight, and condemn 'em as fit for nothin' under the sun, but the fire.
He's a soft heart." "Soft as a green quince!" said Mrs. Abner, scornfully. "How many friends has he?" "Those he has are warm enough," Miss Crane retorted. "Look at Colonel Carvel, who has him to dinner every Sunday." "That's plain as your nose, Mirandy Crane. They both like quarrellin' better than anything in this world." "Well," said Miss Crane, "I must go make ready for the Brices."
When we have been at home a week or two we shall scarcely remember each other's names. Esther sobbed at intervals, but her tears had ceased. 'It's fine for you to talk of home, she said to this. 'You've got something that is a home, I s'pose? But me! my home's like hell, with nothing but quarrellin' and cursin', and a father who beats us whether sober or drunk.
An' my way o' handlin' Pluto is the right way too, but if you don't like my way o' workin' for myself on your ranch why, the' 's plenty of other ranches. The' ain't no use o' your makin' us both miserable, quarrellin' like a pair o' children." "That's what I say," sez Barbie.
"Well, we chatted away arter this fashion, he a openin' of himself and me a walk in' into him; and we jogged along till we came to Charles Tarrio's to Montagon, and there was the matter of a thousand French people gathered there, a chatterin', and laughin', and jawin', and quarrellin', and racin', and wrastlin', and all a givin' tongue, like a pack of village dogs, when an Indgian comes to town.
"The same, young feller. That's me, an' Reggie North is my name. He'd 'ave 'ad some trouble to turn me out once, though, but I've given up quarrellin' and fightin' now, havin' enlisted under the banner of the Prince of Peace," replied the man, who was none other than our Bible-salesman, the man who contributed the memorable speech "Bah!" and "Pooh!" at the Gospel-temperance meeting.
You ain't big enough yet, anyhow. But if there IS a set o' folks in the world that wouldn't have no use for that 'ere 'glad game' o' your'n, it'd be a pair o' quarrellin' lovers; and that's what they be. Ain't he cross as sticks, most gen'rally? and ain't she " Nancy stopped abruptly, remembering just in time to whom, and about whom, she was speaking. Suddenly, however, she chuckled.
"Boys," he said, "they ain't no use o' quarrellin'; we'll all find out the truth about it 'fore very long. I'm a-goin' to stay here an' work in the breaker till the thing's settled, an' I want you boys to use me jest as well as ever you did, an' I'll treat you jest the same as I al'ays have; now, ain't that fair?" "Yes, that's fair!" shouted a dozen boys at a time.
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