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"'Tisn't a city, the place I mean; leastwise 'twaddn' when I was there 'twas a little one-eyed, blinking sort o' place." "Never you mind the place, boy, that's not the question before us. Under the church of that there parish lie my ancestors hundreds of 'em in coats of mail and jewels, in gr't lead coffins weighing tons and tons.
He was there perhaps half-an-hour when he heard steps on the road, and he soon distinguished although the night was very dark, the still darker shadow of the sautane. He rose up, his legs giving way under him, not even venturing to speak, not daring to ask a question. The clergyman perceived him, and said gayly: "Well, my lad, 'tis all right." Césaire stammered: "All right, 'tisn't possible."
Why, you'll be like Ally Glover, and you know I'm trying to be like little Eva." "I don't want to be like Ally Glover," replied Horace, making a wry face; "he's lame, and besides, he's too dreadful good." "Why, Horace," said his sister, solemnly; "anybody can't be too good; 'tisn't possible." "Well, then, he's just like a girl that's what!
"O, mamma," said she, "you do make me feel better. It felt a while ago as if they were beating drums in there." "Is your neck stiff, dear?" Katie thrust her little prying fingers under Dotty's chin, tickling her, of course. "No, auntie," said she, "'tisn't any stiff, her neck isn't." "But it's sore, mother.
Could I tell Ortheris anything that he did not know of the pleasures of his life? I was not a Chaplain nor a Subaltern, and Ortheris had a right to speak as he thought fit. "Let him run, Mulvaney," I said. "It's the beer." "'No! 'Tisn't the beer," said Mulvaney. "I know fwhat's comin'. He's tuk this way now an' agin, an' it's bad it's bad for I'm fond av the bhoy."
Wango had a great habit of running away from his master's home, and, more than once, Bunny Brown and his sister Sue had taken back the sailor's pet. This they now did again, and as they knocked at the side door, Miss Winkler opened it. "Here's your monkey back," said Bunny, after the first greetings. "Huh! 'Tisn't my monkey!" declared Miss Winkler. "It's Jed's!
Well, I'm glad 'tisn't any farther away from yesterday than to-day is, then," laughed Pollyanna, advancing cheerily into the room, and setting her basket carefully down on a chair. "My! but aren't you dark here, though? I can't see you a bit," she cried, unhesitatingly crossing to the window and pulling up the shade. "I want to see if you've fixed your hair like I did oh, you haven't!
"Ah, his constitution's worn out," adds the woman; "that was what doctor said. ''Tisn't to be expected as he could recover, says he; 'his constitution's worn out." The rugged old face on the pillow is indeed lined and wrinkled; the one big hand lying outside the coverlet is gnarled and knotted, like the branch of an ancient tree; the form outlined by the bedclothes is of massive proportions.
"'Tisn't as if there were a couple of sailors at the top with a capstan, to haul you up again when you've slid down," said Bob. "Ah, I wish there were!" cried Bigley, "I get so tired." "No rope would pull you up; you're too heavy," sneered Bob. "Never mind, Sep, let's do something else. The clatter streams ain't half so slippery as they used to be.
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