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Updated: May 7, 2025
Dat is imposseeb to mak' de cook for den seeck mans hall aroun'." "What? Do they sit around where you are cooking?" "Certainment. Dat's warm plas. De bunkhouse she's col. Poor feller! But she's mak' me beeg troub'. She's cough, cough, speet, speet. Bah! dat's what you call lak' one beas'." The doctor strode into the cook-house.
"No maka troub', Signore," whined the Italian master of the bear in about the same tone Bruin himself had begged. Mr. Day was helping the overwrought Miss Peckham to her feet. "Of all things!" he muttered, "Take her out the other way, Janice do." "I wash my hands of you!" repeated the spinster, scarcely aware yet of what had happened. Then she suddenly descried the bear again.
She had trouble with him, and I think you could comfort her." "Ah, dat Klazowski!" exclaimed Pere Garneau. "Eet ees not a good man. Many peep' tell me of dat man. He will be no more priest, for certainly. I would see dis woman, poor soul!" "To-night Kalman will be here," said Brown, "and he will interpret for you." "Ah, he ees a fine young man, Kalman. He mak' troub' for dat priest, ees eet not?"
A certain hidden hearer instantly made up her mind to rush out between the two young men and be a heroine. "Non, non!" exclaimed M. D'Hemecourt excitedly. "Nod in de Café des Exilés nod now, Madjor. Go in dad door, hif you pliz, Madjor. You will heer 'im w'at he 'ave to say. Mague you'sev de troub'. Nod dad door diz one."
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