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Updated: May 11, 2025
"Of course I want the dresses just as much as you do," went on Miss Priscilla, more confidently; "but when I thought of allowing Mis' Snow to slash into that beautiful silk and just waste it on those great balloon sleeves, I I simply couldn't give my consent! and 'tisn't as though we hadn't <i>got</i> the dresses!" "No, indeed!" agreed Miss Amelia, lifting her chin.
"You shouldn't say 'lots," reproved Miss Jerusha, with a sharp look over her spectacles, "tisn't proper for boys to talk so; what do you do all day long?" she asked, turning back to Polly, after a withering glance at Joel, who still stared. "I can't do anything, ma'am," replied Polly, sadly, "I can't see to do anything."
"Burton what the devil can we do about it?" "I don't very well know, Sir Nicholas Many's the time I've badly wanted to offer her the peaches and grapes and other things, to take back to him but of course I know my place better than to insult a lady tisn't like as if she were of another class you see Sir she'd have grabbed 'em then, but bein' as she is, she'd have been bound to refuse them, and it might have tempted her for him and made things awkward."
He threw it at Russ and then, from some point back of the fort another "cannon ball" came sailing into it, flying off and hitting Laddie's brother. "Ouch! Quit that!" cried Russ. "'Tisn't fair throwing sand! A lot of it went down my neck." "I didn't throw sand!" said Laddie. "Yes, you did, too! That last cannon ball you threw had a lot of sand wrapped up in it." "No, I didn't," cried Laddie.
Rusk came towards us looking half wild, and pale as a spectre, and putting her thin hands to my shoulders, she said 'Now, Miss Maud, darling, you must go back again; 'tisn't no place for you; you'll see all, my darling, time enough you will. There now, there, like a dear, do get into your room. What was that dreadful sound? Who had entered my father's chamber?
"I wisht I hadn't come," whined Fly; "I don't want to wear a hangerfiss; 'tisn't speckerble!" "Hush right up! I'm not going to have you get cold! My sorrows! Shan't I be thankful when I get where there's a woman to take care of her?" On the platform at the depot, aunt Madge, Prudy, and Dotty Dimple, were waiting for them. A hearty laugh went the rounds, which Fly thought was decidedly silly.
But 'tisn't that I mean. Do you know how you hail on the World's books? what the number of your mess in Life is?" "Yes," I replied; "I'm a Transport. Was to have been hanged; but I wrote out a Petition, and the Gentlemen in London gave it to the King, God bless him!" "Vastly well, mate!" continued the Captain. "Do you know what a Transport is?"
"I haven't wrote a letter before for nigh 'pon twenty years, I b'lieve," he gasped, mopping his brow and stretching his arms with relief, "and now 'tisn't much of a one. I'm out of practice, but the little maid'll understand," and he chuckled happily as he handed it to Miss Grace. "Yes, she'll understand." Jessie did understand.
"I and Nora are alone, I get down please, father, won't you?" "Why, what's the matter with you child?" The Squire hastily dismounted. "Are you hurt, Kit? What a red, excited face." "No, 'tisn't me, it's Nora. She fell; I think she'll die. It was my fault.
The smile that accompanied the last words is replaced by a graver look, with a touch of sadness in the tone of his voice as he continues: "Poor dear mother, and sis Em'ly! It'll go hard with them for a bit, grieving. But they'll soon get over it. 'Tisn't like I was leaving them never to come back. Besides, won't I write mother a letter soon as I'm sure of getting safe off?"
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