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I said he wouldn't come to no good when I used to see him goin' by runnin' his horse. An' when he got whiskers to growin' on his jaw, flat-nose niggers fishin' along the creek couldn't a' cussed an' said, 'There goes old skinflint Quiller.
He replaced the saucer on the table, locked his fingers and thrust his thumbs together. "If had got little Quiller drownded," he began, "then the old women couldn't a said when he growed up, 'Eh, little Quiller didn't amount to much after all.
Quiller's three months' old baby in her arms. "I guess he'd fetch a prize at a baby show, Mrs. Quiller. Isn't he just too knowing for anything?" "He's the best of the bunch, miss," said Mrs. Quiller proudly. "The other eight, they weren't nothing special. But this one, he be a beauty, though it ain't me as should say it. I'm sure it's very good of you, miss, to spend the time you do over him.
"Do you think they would grind in there if they happened to bunch?" said I. "To kindlin'," responded Ump, "if they ever got at it good." "Ump," I said, looking him squarely in the face, "I'm afraid of it." The man chewed his thin upper lip. "So am I, Quiller," he answered. "But there ain't much choosin'; we either swim 'em or we go up the spout." "Well," said I, "do we do it, or not do it?"
Quiller remarked, "That is a devil of a compliment, because the only men who can read their names in the Louvre to-day have been dead fifty years." On the night after the great fog of 1897 there were five members in the Club, four of them busy with supper and one reading in front of the fireplace. There is only one room to the Club, and one long table.
A few weeks later Quiller the younger looked up from a newspaper with a grin. "Mr. Merefleet's married our little missie, dad," he announced. "I saw it coming t'other day." And old Quiller looked up with a gleam of intelligence on his wrinkled face. "Why!" he said, with slow triumph. "If that ain't what I persuaded him for to do, long, long ago! He's a sensible lad, is Master Bernard."
Matthew Quiller, the detective-inspector admitted that prisoner merely said that he did not know that Mr. Morton was a resident of Brighton he never denied having met him there. "The witness, or rather witnesses, referred to by the police were two Brighton tradesmen who knew Mr. Morton by sight and had seen him on the morning of the 17th walking with the accused. "In this instance Mr.
He got down from his saddle, held up the lantern and looked me over. Then he set the light on the ground and put his hands behind his back. "Quiller," he began, as one speaks into a sympathetic ear, "there is no cement that will hold a man to you unless it is blood wetted. You can buy men by the acre, but they are eye servants to the last one.
Let it be a lesson to you, Quiller, my laddiebuck; when you hear that whistle, light out for the tall timber. When you're a fightin' the devil, half the winnin' 's in the runnin'." Then he opened his great cavernous mouth and began to bellow, "Ho! ho! for the carrion crow, But hark to the sqawk of the carrion hawk,"
"I'd give a purty," said Ump, "to know what word that devil was carryin'." "Quiller had a chance to find out," answered Jud, "an' he shied away from it." "What's that?" cried the hunchback, coming out from under the Bay Eagle.
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