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Updated: May 24, 2025
T. A. Buck stared, open-mouthed, the paper on which he had been scrawling fluttering unnoticed to the floor. "Look here!" he interrupted. "Is this supposed to be humorous?" "And," went on Emma McChesney, calmly, "in our full and complete, not to say nifty line of women's pajamas pink pajamas, blue pajamas, violet pajamas, yellow pajamas, white silk " T. A. Buck stood up.
Out of the mass of letters, agents' circulars, notices of sheep for sale, catalogues of city firms, and circulars from pastoral societies, he picked a letter addressed to himself in the scrawling fist of William Grant. He opened it, expecting to find in it the usual Commination Service on things in general, but as he read on, a vivid surprise spread over his face.
They slip in and out of the world as quiet like. But Mrs. Whaley says the school's so full that her Tommy can only go afternoons." Robin remembered Beryl pointing out a dingy brick building as the schoolhouse. It had a play-yard enclosed on three sides with a high board fence, disfigured by much scrawling. It had seemed an ugly spot. She thought of that now.
"Suppose you read 'em first," said Mr. Marks, "and ask me questions about them afterwards." The first paper which Robert Audley had unfolded contained the following lines, written in that cramped, yet scrawling hand which was so strange to him: "MY DEAR FRIEND I write to you in such utter confusion of mind as perhaps no man ever before suffered.
The water is falling, it now being three or four feet below the stage of a few days since, as can readily be seen from the broad dado of mud left on the leaves of willows and sycamores; while the drift, recently an ever-present feature of the current, is rapidly lodging in the branches of the willows and piling up against the sand-spits; and scrawling snags and bobbing sawyers are catching on the bars, and being held for the next "fresh."
So if that's all he's got to do to be a second-class scout, he's got the badge already, and if anybody wants to know anything about it they can ask me. HERVEY WILLETTS, Troop Cabin 13. After scrawling this conclusive affidavit and placing it under a weight on the desk of Mr.
"Take ahold here, an' keep ringin' steady," said Dan, passing Harvey the lanyard of a bell that hung just behind the windlass. Harvey rang lustily, for he felt two lives depended on him. But Disko in the cabin, scrawling in the log-book, did not look like a murderer, and when he went to supper he even smiled dryly at the anxious Harvey. "This ain't no weather," said Dan.
From behind her desk the austere Superintendent twisted her neck most informally to decipher the scrawling hieroglyphics. "Don't Ever Be bumptious!" she read forth jerkily with a questioning, incredulous sort of emphasis. "Don't ever be bumptious?" squinted the Senior Surgeon perplexedly through his glasses. "Yes," said Rae Malgregor very timidly. "It's my motto."
In some mysterious way the agent seemed to know every time he brought out the paint pot, and he was no longer the pleasant-voiced individual who drove the calico ponies. As he stepped out into the yard next morning that abominable, sickening, scrawling advertisement was the first thing that claimed his glance-it blotted out the beauty of the morning. Mrs.
Nearly makes a guy puke to think of it." Fuselli spoke in a whining voice, watching the top of the mast move like a pencil scrawling on paper, back and forth across the mottled clouds. "You belly-achin' again?" A brown moon-shaped face with thick black eyebrows and hair curling crisply about a forehead with many horizontal wrinkles rose from the deck on the other side of Fuselli.
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