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Updated: May 16, 2025
"Why can't you remember anything, boy?" sternly cut in the roguish-eyed youngster, with admonitory forefinger, coming to the front. "How many times have I told you never to say blue when you mean green? Why don't you say Kansas zephyr? Or windy-auger? Or twister? Or whirly-gust on a corkscrew wiggle-waggle? Or well, almost any other old thing that you can't think of at the right time? W-h-e-w!
Instead he saw a young girl of a little less than Barbee's age, roguish-eyed, black-haired, red-mouthed, plump and saucy. Her sleeves were up; her arms were brown and round; there was flour on them. 'Where are the Longstreets, Barbee? asked Howard. 'Gone, announced Barbee cheerfully. And as though that closed the matter to his entire satisfaction, he demanded: 'Come on, Pet; be a good kid.
"To the minster anywhere, so that I find good Friar Martin." "Nay, prithee, Beltane, prithee set me down!" "What would'st, my Helen?" "Loose me and shalt see." So Beltane, sighing, let her go, whereupon she took a small silver whistle that hung at her girdle and sounded it. "Ah what do you?" he questioned. "Wait!" said she, roguish-eyed.
A mass of frieze-coated, brow-faced, bullet-headed peasantry filled up the large spaces, dotted here and there with a sleek, roguish-eyed priest, or some low electioneering agent detailing, for the amusement of the company, some of those cunning practices of former times which if known to the proper authorities would in all likelihood cause the talented narrator to be improving the soil of Sidney, or fishing on the banks of the Swan river; while at the head and foot of each table sat some personal friend of my uncle, whose ready tongue, and still readier pistol, made him a personage of some consequence, not more to his own people than to the enemy.
In short, I was at first amused, and afterwards annoyed, by this young lady, whereas the roguish-eyed miss improved greatly upon acquaintance. After a while, Captain Kingwalt came in, trailing his spurs over the floor, and leaving sunshine in his wake. There was something galvanic in his gentleness, and infectious in his merriment.
Shall we see who it is? It was love among the ruins. Or, in other words, Yellow Barbee leaning halfway across the lunch counter, toward the roguish-eyed, plump maid who leaned slowly toward him. 'Hello, Barbee, called Alan. And when Barbee greeted him without enthusiasm, he asked: 'What's happened to the town? 'Hit the slide, said Barbee carelessly.
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