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Updated: June 10, 2025
'Ecod, if thot's on'y a Poast Office, I'd loike to see where the Lord Mayor o' Lunnun lives. So saying, John Browdie for he it was opened the coach-door, and tapping Mrs Browdie, late Miss Price, on the cheek as he looked in, burst into a boisterous fit of laughter. 'Weel! said John. 'Dang my bootuns if she bean't asleep agean!
He washed down his mouthful. "Coom, Ally, and open door t' 'er." But Ally did not come. She had her year-old baby on her knees and was feeding him. At the door of the old kitchen Jim grasped his sister-in-law by the hand. "Thot's right," he said. "Yo've joost coom in time for a cup o' tae. T' misses is in there wi' t' lil uns." He jerked his thumb toward his dining-room and led the way there.
"Well, you black devil," he began, as he twisted and turned the much-bepatched harness, "you doin' soom work now! All you' life you havin' mooch good times! Eet is not for thee fun thot you live, you know?" he went on, academically, continuing to disentangle the harness. "Eet is for thee work thot you live! Work thot's thee answer!"
A real clipper of a dog, an' it's noa wonder yon laady. Mrs. DeSussa, should tek a fancy tiv him. Theer's one o' t' Ten Commandments says yo' maun't cuwet your neebor's ox nor his jackass, but it doesn't say nowt about his tarrier dogs, an' happen thot's t' reason why Mrs.
"But thot's their way 'we regret tull note, 'we beg tull advise, 'we recommend, 'we canna understand' an' the like o' thot. Domned cargo tank! An' they would thunk I could drive her like a Lucania, an' wi'out burnun' coals. There was thot propeller. I was after them a guid while for ut. The old one was iron, thuck on the edges, an' we couldna make our speed.
An' afther thot's all over, we're goin' t' take anither kind of a flight into good old Frisco." Chick instantly asked Pat if he knew where San Francisco might be. "Faith, 'tis only th' ould doc knows, laddie. But when we git there, 'tis Pat MacPherson that's a goin' for Toddy Maloney." "I don't know that name." "Bedad, I do. Him it was thot give me th' dhrink." "What drink?"
"Because, sor, they're not there!" "Not in the tunnel? Why, they were working there a little while ago, when I made the last connection!" "I know they were, but they've disappeared." "Disappeared?" "Yis sir. There's no way out except at this end an' you didn't see thim come out: did you?" "Then they've disappeared! That's all there is to it! Bad goin's on, thot's what it is, sor!
But O'Neil, the night operator, was dead. Murdered by Indians while we slept." "Thot's hell!" replied Casey, seriously, as he lit his pipe. "The message went through to Medicine Bow. Stacey down there sent it back to me. I tried to get Hills at Roaring City. No go! The wire's cut!" "An' shure the gineral's train has left wot's that new camp Roarin' wot?"
"Ay, ay, measter," was the answer, in rather unintelligible Doric; "thot bees Harbury Church, as sure as moy name's John Dent; and thot red house conna ye see't? thot's our parson's." Prompted by curiosity, Rothesay observed, "Oh, Mr. Gwynne's. He is quite a young man, I believe? Do you like him, you good folks hereabout?" "Some on us dun, and some on us dunna.
Put this job through as shippin'-master, and thin go on wid me as runner. Shake hands." They shook, Murphy joyous and forgiving, Hennesey cold, suspicious, and unforgiving. A handshake is a poor auditing of a fist blow. "Whin does Williams want his min?" asked Murphy. "In two weeks, about. Twinty-four able seamen." "Thot's good.
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