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Updated: May 6, 2025
And I know'd how to write some 'fore I went. Mah'sr George teached me." "You'd better git Miss Kate to write yer letter," said Aunt Judy. "She'd spell it out a great sight better dan Gregory Montague, I reckons." "No, I don't want Miss Kate to write dis hyar letter. She does enough, let alone writin' letters fur me. Come 'long hyar, you Greg'ry.
That though all Andy's trouble came from the railroad he claims to belong to it as one of its 'boys. He's rippin', Andy is. He told father 't he 'teached school' himself, once! But he got so tired of it that the sight of a spelling-book made him sick." "It does me, too," said Alfy, with sympathy. "So he 'cut and run, and rode on trains in every direction as long as his money held out.
'No, I don't think 'tis mine! cried Ned hoarsely, as he looked up from his hands. 'But she is mine, all the same! Ha'n't I nussed her? Ha'n't I fed her and teached her? Ha'n't I played wi' her? O, little Carry gone with that rogue gone! 'You ha'n't lost your mis'ess, anyhow, they said to console him.
Then my turn came, and I twitted him nicely with dulness, and compared him with a pal that I had in ould Ireland, in Dungarvon times of yore, to whom I teached Irish, telling him that he was the broth of a boy, and not only knew the grammar of all human tongues, but the dialects of the snakes besides; in fact, I tould him all about your own sweet self, Shorsha, and many a dispute and quarrel had we together about our pals, which was the cleverest fellow, his or mine.
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