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Updated: May 8, 2025
"Well, maybe we ought," he said finally, his eyes guiltily upon his toe, which slowly scuffed the ground. "I don't say we ought, and I don't say we oughtn't." He expected at the least a sharp protest from his partner, who, on the contrary, surprised him. "Well, that's the way I look at it," Henry said. "I don't say we ought and I don't say we oughtn't."
He'd 'a' gone to the ground but his friends grabbed him. I run to Jack. "'Be ye hit? I says. "'I think his bullet teched me a little on the top o' the left shoulder, says he. "I see his coat were tore an' we took it off an' the jacket, an' I ripped the shirt some an' see that the bullet had kind o' scuffed its foot on him goin' by, an' left a track in the skin.
Perhaps it's because I've forgotten to ask you." "Oh, no," Ramsey said, and scuffed his shoes on the path, presently explaining rather huskily that he "never was much of a caller"; and he added, "or anything." "Well, you must come if you ever care to," she said, with a big-sister graciousness. "The Dorm chaperon sits there, of course, but ours is a jolly one and you'd like her.
His white shirt was stained with the dust of battle; his shoes were gray and scuffed; his curly locks were damp and clung to his forehead; but his blue eyes were bright, and as he poised the ball in air, balancing himself before the throw, he no longer looked ridiculous. Harris, observing him from the bench, rendered ungrudging admiration. "Good old 'Newt' Stone!" he muttered.
The well-worn, tall, laced boots were of brown leather, much scuffed, one in colour with the soil dusting them. The khaki trousers gathered into the boot-tops, the soft flannel shirt, were the brown of the tree trunks; skin of hands and face and muscular throat were the bronze of ripe pine-cones and burnished pine-needles.
I said I would go and get some candles, so in case the things came not necessarily the matting we didn't really need the matting first, anyway it would get scuffed and injured if it were put down first it was the other things we needed things to eat and go to bed with! When I came back there was a wild excitement around our entrance.
He was of stalky build, carefully shaved that morning, and wore a dingy turndown collar. His shoes, though scuffed with wear, were polished. In the midst of this scrutiny the man suddenly lowered the paper and leveled his eyes at Hiram. The look almost said "What do you want?" in a disinterested though not antagonistic way. Hiram was caught unawares.
"Aw, jeepers creepers!" he blasphemed euphemistically. "Mebbe t'morrow," Allan said. "If I c'n make it. I gotta go, now; ain't had breakfast yet." He scuffed his feet boyishly, exchanged so-longs with his friend, and continued homeward. As he had hoped, the Sunday paper kept his father occupied at breakfast, to the exclusion of any dangerous table talk.
At one o'clock the doors were opened: at one-ten the eyes of the proprietor were made glad and his heart was uplifted within him by the sight of a strange procession, drawing nearer and nearer across the scuffed turf of the common, and heading in the direction of the red ticket wagon.
As the mare scuffed off down the road, amid a cloud of dust, Lucy entered the store. A stuffy odor of coffee, molasses, and calico greeted her; so, too, did Elias Barnes, who came forward from behind the counter, extending his damp and sticky palm and showing every tooth that an expansive smile permitted. "So it's you, Miss Lucy," he observed with pleasure. "I was expecting to see your aunt.
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