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Updated: May 23, 2025
When you hear again of Willy Hanlon, it'll be in a very different line of goods!" "What?" asked Eunice, interestedly. "'Scuse me, ma'am. I'd tell you, if I'd tell anybody. But, you see, it ain't good business. I just thought up a new line of work and I'm going to take time to perfect myself in it, and then spring it on a long-sufferin' public."
"Oh, no, she needn't do that," and Bernice laughed at the idea. "We're only little girls. If Mrs. Berry says we can go, your invitation is enough." "Good work! Be sure to come. Crazy to have you. 'Scuse me a minute, there's a girl I want to speak to." Sam darted off, and another boy dropped into his vacated seat.
Suddenly the old fellow's mood changed; with a patronizing smile he turned to Mr. Weston, and said, "Master, you must 'scuse me: I aint well dis evening. I has the dyspepsy; my suggestion aint as good as common. I think dat ox was done too much." Mr. Weston could not restrain a smile at his grotesque appearance, and ridiculous language.
"What secret is that?" asked Brown, peering at him intently through the dim light, where he swayed in the corner with every jolt of the taxi. "Sorry, m'dear fellow. Mussn' ask me that. Gotta tell Major n'no one else." "But I am the Major's confidential " "Sorry. You'll 'scuse me, 'm'sure. Can't talk Misser Brow! 'gret 'ceedingly 'cessity reticence. Unnerstan'?"
What kind of a man is this Mad Whately anyway, that he could think of taking part in such a wrong?" "He de same kin' ob man dat he wuz a boy," Chunk answered. "Den he kick en howl till he git w'at he want. 'Scuse me, Marse Scoville, but I kyant hep tinkin' you mek big 'stake dat you didn't jab 'im w'en you hab de chance."
"He's a Shawnee," said Long Jim. "I marked him when he went away. I kin see that he's tired an' I could tell by the bend in his shoulders that he wuz comin' back with nothin'. He's set down now, an' ez he 'pears to be talkin' I guess he's tellin' the others, to 'scuse his failure, that it wuzn't really a man that he wuz follerin', but jest a ghost or a phantom, or suthin' uv that kind.
I guess you did come in, at that, from Buffalo or Pittsboig or some them Western joints, didn' you?" Kedzie just looked at him. Her big eyes lied for her, and he hastened to say: "Well, scuse me nosin' in on your own business. Tell the landlady what you want to, only tell her it was me sent you. That's as good as a guarantee that she'll have to wait for her money."
Damon and Tom approaching. "What's wrong?" asked the young inventor. "'Scuse me, Massa Tom," began Eradicate, "but didn't yo' tell me to spade de garden?" "I guess I did," admitted Tom Swift. "An' you tell me help yes?" questioned Koku. "Well, I thought it would be a little too much for you, Rad," said Tom, gently. "I thought perhaps you'd like help." "Hu!
"Oh! no," said the nearest man; "she ain't waitin'; she's just enjoyin' the scenery on them railroad posters. She likes to set there, been doin' it for a half hour." Uncle Jimpson scraped the mud from his shoes, buttoned the one button that was left on his linen coat, and dropping his hat outside the door summoned courage to present himself. "'Scuse me, mam, but does dis heah happen to be Mrs.
The sound of steps was heard on the side porch, and in came Sam, quite excited. "'Scuse me!" he murmured, as he entered. "Oh, de p'liceman done come!" he exclaimed. "He's heah! I'm glad!" "Did you expect him?" asked Mr. Bobbsey. "Yes, sah, Mr. Bobbsey, I did! When de lap robe was gone I t'ought maybe you t'ink I might 'a' been careless like, an' let some chicken t'ieves in.
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