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Updated: May 26, 2025
The man of unquiet nerves or of exacting lungs would do well to leave that arena to the hard-heads and cool-bloods who can pursue their aim and secure their interests: undisturbed either by the fractional rat-a-tat-tat of the auctioneer's "Twenty-seven af naf naf naf, who'll give me thirty?" or by the banter and comicalities which a humor-loving auctioneer will interject between these bird-notes, without changing his key, or arresting his sale a moment.
These four days have seemed as if they never would end especially the last. But now it wants only two minutes of noon. In two minutes, if Lampron is not late Rat-a-tat-tat! "Come in." "It is twelve o'clock, my friend; are you coming?" It was Lampron. For the last hour I had had my hat on my head, my stick between my legs, and had been turning over my essay with gloved hands. He laughed at me.
The arbor would seat about five hundred people. Everything was in readiness for the long-expected meetings. All there was to do was to wait for the 2nd of August to come, and that was hard to do. Finally it came. That afternoon when the two-coached train rolled up to the little red station at Dobbinsville, Jake Benton stood on the depot platform. His heart beat a rat-a-tat-tat against his chest.
Henri called softly to his following. "Don't show as much as a finger, if you can help it. Open fire only when they get to the exit from the hall, and cease fire immediately you have checked their dash towards us." Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!
The endless rat-a-tat-tat at our black-and-blue bruised doors, and my three master-fiends, proof-sheets, letters, and worse than these invitations to large dinners, which I cannot refuse without offence and imputation of pride, etc., oppress me so much that my spirits quite sink under it. I have never seen the play since the first night. It has been a good thing for the theatre.
Captain Brandon was not at home, having gone to Maine to obtain timber for the building of a ship. Berinthia returned to her room, lifted the sheets and blankets, tucked Tom's suit safely away between the feather bed and the straw mattress beneath it. "Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!" went the knocker, louder than before. Tom heard Berinthia's window open. "Who's there, and what is wanted?"
There was a man marching. He looked something like the Toyman. But could it be? No, for he was so changed. The man had a horn around his neck, and a feather in his hat, and his face was stern. He was whistling "Yankee Doodle." It sounded like a fife, and all the time he was beating the drum with all his might. Rat-a-tat-tat. Rat-a-tat-tat. Rat-a-tat-tat.
A small detachment of Boy Scouts, sturdy with an enormous sense of uniform and valor, marched through the asphalt alleys of the park with trained, small-footed, regimental precision small boys with clean, lifted faces. A fife and drum came up the road. Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat! High over the water a light had come out Liberty's high-flung torch.
So, shouldering our gun, away we went, the officer leading. We started to climb the Ridge, and we were just coming through a churchyard when rat-a-tat-tat! a machine gun spoke to us from the town we had left. The Corporal jumped and fell, and when we reached him he said, "Boys, I've got it." We bound him up as best we could, and Tommy went in search of a stretcher to carry him out on.
And everybody was pleased, and composed ourselves once more to listen. "How I got that there bird was like this," he began. "It were about half after four in the morning, summer before last, an' I was just having what I may call my beauty sleep, when all of a sudding there came a most thundering rat-a-tat-tat at the door. "'Good Lord, says my missus, 'whatever is that?
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