"How much we takin' to-day?" asked Moon, in a manner which combined the independence of the great specialist, the friendliness of a familiar gossip, and respect for a man of weight in the community, like George F. Babbitt. "Fill 'er up." "Who you rootin' for for Republican candidate, Mr. Babbitt?" "It's too early to make any predictions yet.
Whenever you come to such a grand place as this, Squire, depend on't the farm is all of a piece, great crops of thistles, and an everlastin yield of weeds, and cattle the best fed of any in the country, for they are always in the grain fields or mowin lands, and the pigs a rootin in the potatoe patches.
"That's what I went to the trouble o' rootin' out that saddle an' bridle for," sez I, "but I don't care to have it advertised that I'm ridin' fence at my time o' life, an' I don't promise to continue at it more'n a few months." "I see," sez he, "an' it'll be all right. Kid Porter'll be down with the buckboard day after to-morrow, an' you can go out with him."
Then she fell to lamenting that she had been working all her life for nothing, and it would take so little to make the family comfortable, and that her children seemed "disabled somehow in thar heads, an' though always rootin' around in the woods, hed never fund no gold mine nor nuthin' else out o' the common." Birt kept silent, but the gloom and trouble in his face suddenly touched her heart.
We could have helped you take care of it." "Now, wouldn't dat hab bin smart ter let on ter you chaps, an' hab you huntin' fer it from Dan ter Barsheba? I specs some ob you would bin a rootin' fer it yit!" "Well, Uncle Daniel, we were young then; I can't tell what we would have done if we had found it. But we are older now."
I see him one Saturday night rootin' about the churchyard and lookin' behind them laurels where I used to pitch all the bits and bobs of bone as I see lying about. I've often wished I'd took the number on his motor, and then we'd ha' catched him fine! But he was a gentlemanly-looking young feller, and I didn't suspect nothing at the time.
August 11th. I hope tom's happy; it's offel to be in love. I hope I'll never be. My hands are pretty sore pullin' weeds, but I like it; I pertend it's bad habits I'm rootin' out. Arthur's offel good: he duz all the work he can for me, and he sings for me and tells me about his uncle the Bishop. His uncle's got servants and leggin's and lots of things. Arthur's been kind of sick lately.
Do you remember how pink his pretty little nose was, just like a rosebud, and how bright his eyes looked, and his cunning legs? And now he's grown so big and fierce! But I can't help liking him, either." "He's a cute critter, that's sartain; but he does too much rootin' to have a pink nose now, I expect; there's consider'ble on't, so I guess it looks as well to have it gray.
"And you know the points of the compass, you have a compass, I suppose?" "A compass! by my sowl an' it's not let alone a compass, but a pair a compasses I have, that my brother the carpinthir left me for a keepsake whin he wint abroad; but, indeed, as for the points o' thim I can't say much, for the childer spylt thim intirely, rootin' holes in the flure."
Ye'd 'ave bust yerself laffin', ef ye could 'a' seed 'em rootin'. An' since then, Mr. Barron, I git all the aigs I want. Don't ye talk to me o' weasels the skinny little rats. They ain't wuth noticin', no more'n a chipmunk." The Battle in the Mist In the silver-grey between dawn and sunrise the river was filled with mist from bank to bank.