Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 29, 2025
What with Sandy's love of debate and Sunny's indolence, the visit of these men might have been prolonged for hours. As it was, in five minutes after Bill's appearance upon the scene the cortége was ready to set out for the water's edge; and not only ready, but more than willing to submit the all-unconscious twins to the combination of their inexperienced efforts in matters ablutionary.
Sunny was used to so much attention that he felt rather put out when Araminta, sweeping the front porch, told him that Mother and Grandma had taken Peter and the buggy and had driven to Cloverways. "They said I could go next time," grumbled Sunny Boy, not a bit sunnily. "Mother said so. 'Tain't fair." "Don't say 'tain't," corrected Araminta, who was very careful of Sunny's grammar.
"We have to tell him our news all in one breath because we see so little of him, don't we, Sunny Boy? I do hope, Harry, that you'll be able to come up this summer and spend a real vacation at your father's." Mr. Horton was making a little well in the mashed potato on Sunny's plate, and flooding it with the rich brown gravy.
But Sandy Joyce felt that somehow his first effort on behalf of the children had missed fire, and it was his duty not to allow himself to be ousted from the council. So he stayed the loafer with a word. "Say, you'll be knowin' how to feed 'em?" he inquired gravely. Sunny's eyes twinkled. "Wal, mebbe you ken give me pointers," he retorted, with apparent sincerity.
Minky had joined in Sunny's grin at the other men's expense. Sandy, too, now that he was accepted as an active member of the trust, was indulging in a superior smile. "I don't allow I have," Bill said slowly. "Y'see, you ain't much else than a 'remittance' man, an' they ain't no sort o' trash anyway." "But," protested Toby, "I can't help it if my folks hand me money?" "Mebbe you can't."
"I was kind of wonderin'," Minky went on thoughtfully, "if he don't turn up wot's to happen with them kids?" "I ain't figgered." Bill's interest was apparently wandering. "He'll need to be gettin' around or somethin's got to be done," Minky drifted on vaguely. "Sure." "Y'see, Sunny's jest a hoboe." "Sure."
Guess you ain't never heerd tell o' the 'rest cure'?" A rough laugh broke on the drowsy atmosphere. "Sunny's overworked just now," said another voice, amidst the rattle of poker chips. "Wher' you bin workin', Sunny?" inquired the harsh voice of the man addressed as Bill. "Workin'!" cried the loafer, with good-natured scorn. "Say, I don't never let a hobby interfere with the bizness of life."
Sunny's flow was a little overwhelming, and perhaps there was just enough truth in his remarks to make it unadvisable for the others to measure wits with him. Anyway, he received no reply. Bill continued to gaze out at Scipio's hut in a way that suggested great absorption, while Toby had not yet lunched sufficiently off his tattered forefinger.
"We'll git goin'," he said, with biting coldness. "Come right along. So long, Zip," he added, with an unusual touch of gentleness. "I'll be along to see you later. We need to talk some." He moved over to Sunny's side, and his hand closed upon his arm. And somehow his grip kept the loafer silent until they passed out of the hut. Once outside the gambler threw his shoulders back and breathed freely.
And when, after the slightest hesitation, Vada joined in his lament, Sunny's distress became pitiable. However, he managed to ease his feelings by several well-directed mental curses at Wild Bill's head, and all those others concerned in reducing him to his present position. And with this silently furious outburst there came a brain-wave of great magnitude.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking