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Updated: June 17, 2025
The man stared at him a moment, then jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "There's Jo over there," he said. "She's lookin' for ye, I reckon. That pretty girl in the chaps." "Her!" gasped Mr. Tweet. "Lordy! And I was just eulogizin' her through the window o' the coach. I saw her first Hiram I saw her first!" Next second Mr. Tweet was before Jerkline Jo, lifting his hat and bowing politely.
The evening came, and nobody appeared to bring the poor bird a drop of water; it opened its beautiful wings, and fluttered about in its anguish; a faint and mournful "Tweet, tweet," was all it could utter, then it bent its little head towards the flower, and its heart broke for want and longing.
Heavens, I remember how I fell for it years ago!" Hiram closed his lips tight. He hated Tweet. Tweet slapped him on the back and laughed. "Forget it, Hiram," he advised familiarly. "It ain't like me to roast anybody when I see it hurts. Why, le's see now I don't know the kid's name. I've heard the men call her Lucy that's all.
Orr Tweet roused himself from his seat in the smoker and slapped the muscle-corded thigh of the disconsolate Hiram Hooker. "She blows, Hiram, old boy!" cried Mr. Tweet. "Fame and fortune await us just ahead. She slows! She creeps! Palada opens her arms to us! Perk up, Hiram! The girl wasn't your kind, my boy.
Tweet ate supper with Jo and her skinners, and afterward the outfit spent a pleasant evening listening to the promoter's rosy plannings. Even the most skeptical among them gradually became convinced that, if he could hold on and meet his payments, he might make a go of it. Early next morning they started back, passed the polite Mr.
Rich Find in Little-Known Corner of Treacherous Waste. Dead Father of Picturesque Girl Called Jerkline Jo the Finder. Weird Tale of Struggles and Death and Baby Lost on Desert. Gold Hills Mining Co. Takes Over the Claims at $1,000,000. President Says Richest Discovery Since Days of '49. "Great stutterin' Demosthenes!" exclaimed Tweet, and fell limply into a chair.
'Farewell, farewell! said the little swallow with a heavy heart, and flew away to farther lands, far, far away, right back to Denmark. There he had a little nest above a window, where his wife lived, who can tell fairy-stories. 'Tweet, tweet! he sang to her. And that is the way we learnt the whole story.
Besides, Auntie never did have any use for this Mrs. Butt anyway and hardly speaks to her civil when she meets her. Now Auntie is squirmin' in her chair and I can guess how her fingers are itchin' to rescue the youngster. "Um precious 'ittle sweetums, ain't oo?" gurgles Mrs. Butt, rootin' him in the stomach with her nose. "Won't um let me tiss um's tweet 'ittle pinky winky toes?"
"Hold me up, if your coin lasts, till I hit the ball that's all. You'll never regret it." Tweet sat pulling his twisted nose from side to side, as if trying to straighten it. "But I don't understand. You seem to be that is, you call yourself a capitalist, and you're only I mean it seems funny " "I get you. I talk like a millionaire and travel with tramps." Tweet sighed.
So I begin my explanation by giving them my nickname, or monaker, 'Playmate, and follow it with my second monaker, 'Twitter-or-Tweet, as I am frequently called, or Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet, or Twitter-or-Tweet Tweet. It's very simple." Jerkline Jo laughed again at the end of this seemingly nonsensical harangue, and fixed her dark eyes on Hiram Hooker.
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