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Updated: May 23, 2025
The negroes stepped back amazed. "'Scuse me, Senator, is this gent'man a friend of yours?" the head porter gasped apologetically. Langdon looked at him. "You heard what I said," he drawled in the slow way natural to some men of the South when trouble threatens. "I'd like to have you down in Mississippi for about ten minutes."
"'Scuse me," he said, "but 'pears like I can't stan' another minit, what with bein' up all night with Miss Dory, an' gwine 'crost the lake twiste for nothin', 'case I didn't find him." By this time Mr. Mason had recognized the negro as one he had seen occasionally around the hotel selling vegetables and eggs, and who he had heard the people say was worth his weight in gold.
"All right, Chick-chick. Be as funny as you want. If my father ran a garage I reckon I'd know something about tires, too." "'Scuse me! You certainly right, Goosey. Who ought know automobile tires if not me. What I want you see is these tires can be followed anywhere 'cause they're non-skid with that peculiar bar formation. They'll show up on road so we can follow on dead run, we can."
But Dingee presently returned, more thoroughly taken aback than often befel him. 'Can't make it out, 'xactly, sir, he said, hesitating. 'Fact is, it's drefful hard work to 'member messages, sight easier made 'em up! But Missee Hazel say, Mas Rollo thought she say please 'scuse her dis afternoon. 'Pears like dat ar' headache done come back, said Dingee, in his bewilderment.
"Ah 'scuse you ef you do me dis favor," say' de ghost. "Ah got somefin' powerful important to say unto you, an' Ah can't say hit 'ca'se Ah ain't got no head; an' whin Ah ain't got no head, Ah ain't got no mouf, an' whin Ah ain't got no mouf, Ah can't talk at all." An' dat right logical fo' shore.
In rags, ev'ry one on us, 'cept you, an' your black velvet suit is lookin' a leetle mite rusty, if you'll 'scuse an ol' sailor-man, for speakin' right out. An' we'd like somethin' good to eat, an' somethin' good to drink.
De firs' business whut come' before de convintion am: whut we gwine do to a li'l' black boy whut stip' on de king an' maul' all ober de king an' treat' de king dat disrespictful'." An li'l' black Mose jes moan' an' sob': "'Scuse me! 'Scuse me, Mistah King! Ah ain't mean no harm at all."
"I hate cities," was his first greeting to me. He squirted a brown parabola of tobacco juice, parenthetically, into the wood-box behind the stove, right on top of the cat that had some kittens in there. Aunt Rachel caught him at it. "Josh, how often have I told you you mustn't spit on that cat." "'Scuse me, Ma, I'm kind o' absint-minded." The incident seemed to me so funny that I laughed hard.
As the young Englishman bent over, without replying, Blake roused from his abstraction and perceived that he was not alone in the room. "Hello 'scuse me!" he mumbled. Half startled, they turned to look at him. He met them with a rare smile. "So it's you, Jeems and Miss Jenny. Didn't mean to cut in on your 'tates-an'-tay, as the Irishman put it." He started to turn back.
Well, I arn't; but, you'll scuse me, sir, have you happened to call and see anyone as has given you some cake and wine as was rather too strong for a hot sunny day like this?" "No!" roared Aleck, in a thorough passion now. "Such insolence! Say again that I threw a weight of paper and broke a hole through her." "Well, sir, I see your shadder." "You did not, for I've not been back till just now."
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