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Updated: May 18, 2025
You're the only one that thinks we're so funny; look at your professor, he's older than you are, and we're good enough for him, but you're only a brat with the milk still in your nose and all you can prattle is 'ma' or 'mu, you're only a clay pot, a piece of leather soaked in water, softer and slipperier, but none the better for that. You've got more coin than we have, have you?
"Has this fellow," he demanded, twisting his head in the direction of Rogers, but disdaining to notice him otherwise, "been telling you that it's part of my game to say this? Well, sir, I can tell you, on my side, that there isn't a slipperier rascal unhung in America than Milton K. Rogers!"
Splash, splash, splash, came three of the young ones; splash, splash, the mother and one of the cubs almost together. "Scoot" went the big male again, and the wet furslopping and rubbing on the long clay chute made it greasier and slipperier every time.
He couldn't relax and enjoy the contest his feet were on too slippery ground. And Copper with her unerring female instinct knew just what to do to make the footing slipperier. Sooner or later, she was certain that he would fall. It was only a question of applying sufficient pressure at the right spot and the right time. Now that she knew he desired her, she was content to wait.
"Certainly I won't mind, if you'll produce Miss Sylvia. She's slipperier than a drop of quicksilver." Edna stiffened slightly. "Perhaps she has gone to sleep, too." "Well, you haven't, anyway. Come! I hate those carpenters with a virulence that grows worse every hour." The young hostess laughed. "I've only to stay with them a little while longer. Come with me.
"There ain't a slipperier thing anywheres, than one of them big eels. There ain't no holding of them at all when there are no holes in the bottom of the traps; and of course I couldn't stop that un without any salt to put on his tail." "Don't talk such stuff," said Philip; "we are not children, and you don't think we believe all that rubbish about salt on tails, do you?"
Once inside, he slid his sole over the hayseed that covered the floor; it was no slipperier than the carpet of needles in that glade of the evergreens where he had practised daily with his improvised punching-bag since the second week in July. A quick glance about photographed on his brain the details of the arena in which he was so soon to play the gladiator.
The idea of horrid floors, like black looking-glasses, and slipperier than a skating-rink. Edith, how long is it since you got up?" "Now for it!" thought Edith, and the smile she strove to repress, dimpled her sunny face. Luckily, standing behind Trix's chair, Trix did not see it. "How long? Oh, since nine o'clock. You know I'm not a very early riser." "Did you go straight down to breakfast?"
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