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Updated: June 22, 2025
"Yes," said I. And I told them my name. "That's my shirt you've got on, by the way." "T-t-tell him about it, S-S-Spike," said the one at the wheel. "Tell him yourself!" growled the other. "W-Well," said the steersman, giving the wheel a twist, "you s- see... you s-see... oh! I can't t-tell him, it makes me s- stutter so d-darned much!" "Go ahead!" returned Spike.
The servant admitted the white-faced, shaking woman, and she ran to Jane Barclay's room. "Oh, Jane," chattered Molly, "Jane, for God's love, Jane, hold me hold me tight; don't let me go. Don't!" She sank to the floor and put her face in Jane's lap and stuttered: "I I have g-g-got to t-t-tell you, Jane. I've g-g-ot to t-t-t-ell you, J-J-Jane." And then she fell to sobbing.
"They agree with the description to a dot," Owen replied, confidently; "and, to my mind, these seem particularly fat and promising." "T-t-tell me about that, now, will you?" gasped Toby, who was also examining a prize. "S-s-say, Max, why looky here, I've picked up these s-sort of c-c-clams many a t-time when d-diving."
"I-I-I c-can't t-t-tell h-h-h ." "Here! you quit that!" exclaimed Jack sternly, thinking to frighten Will out of his stuttering. The rebuke had the desired effect, and, for once Will forgot to mix his words and letters. "When he saw it was me," he explained, "he didn't seem to know what to say. Then he laughed and Gales laughed, and I felt pretty foolish; I tell you.
"Too bad he didn't like the looks of our crowd," Steve remarked. "What makes you think he didn't?" Owen asked, smiling. "Well, he acted like he was afraid of us," replied Steve. "T-t-tell you what, boys, I reckon it wasn't our looks, after all, that s-s-scared him, though Bandy-legs does resemble a terrible p-p-pirate when he wears that old zebra s-s-sweater of his."
"And even if we should l-l-lose this useful t-t-trinket," continued Toby, exultantly, "I'd know how to t-t-tell which was north, all right." "Huh! why, of course, by the moss on the sides of the trees," observed Bandy-legs. "Guess I heard Max tell that, all right. Never forget it, either. But how the dickens is a feller to ever remember which side of the big trees this moss always grows on?"
"Twice now I've glimpsed something white among the thickets of undergrowth; and you can see that the creek is beginning to swing around so as to lead us in that direction." "G-g-guess you're about r-r-right, Steve!" declared Toby Jucklin, instantly; "to t-t-tell you the t-t-truth, I've been squinting that same p-p-patch of white myself q-q-quite some little time now."
He said he wanted the intimation c-c-conveyed to you as unobtrusively as p-p-possible and d-d-desired p-p-particularly that no one should ever know or g-g-guess that it had b-b-been g-g-given. So he sent for me, as your b-b-best friend, since he was sure I would never t-t-tell anybody. "B-B-Better send along your application for an audience.
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