United States or Brazil ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
“You see w’en father died, fo’ year ago, mother she went back to France, t’her folks there; she never could stan’ this country an’ lef’ us boys to manage the place. Hec, he took charge the firs’ year an’ run it in debt. Placide an’ me did’n’ have no betta luck the naxt year. Then the creditors come up from New Orleans an’ took holt. That’s the time I packed my duds an’ lef’.” “And you came here?”
A frowsy little servant opened the door. “Is Dr Twiddel at home?” he asked. “Dr Twiddel’s abroad, sir,” said the maid. “No one in at all, then?” “Dr Billson sees ’is patients, sir—w’en there his any.” “When do you expect Dr Billson?” “In about an hour, sir, ’e usually comes hin.” “Excellent!” thought Mr Bunker. Aloud he said, “Well, I’m a patient. I’ll come in and wait.”
“Den w’y you neva said ‘convent’? I knows all ’bout convent. W’at you gwine do wid dem ax w’en de papah done all fill up?” handing the singular tablet back to her. “Oh,” replied Lucilla, “when I have thousands and thousands I gain twenty-five years’ indulgence.” “Is dat so?”
“And here you ought to stay, Grégoire.” “Oh, they ain’t no betta woman in the worl’ then Aunt Thérèse, w’en you do like she wants. See ’em yonda waitin’ fur us? Reckon they thought we was drowned.” A Small Interruption. When Melicent came to visit her brother, Mrs.
You can make them just as quick as you can think you can make hundreds and hundreds in a day.” “My Lan’! Dat’s w’at you’se studyin’ ’bout w’en you’se steppin’ ’roun’ heah like a droopy pullet? An’ I t’ought you was studyin’ ’bout dat beau you lef’ yonda to Sent Lous.” “You mustn’t say such things to me; I’m going to be a religious.” “How dat gwine henda you have a beau ef you’se religious?”
In the Pine Woods. When Grégoire said to Melicent that there was no better woman in the world than his Aunt Thérèse, “W’en you do like she wants,” the statement was so incomplete as to leave one in uncomfortable doubt of the expediency of venturing within the influence of so exacting a nature.
It seemed like a long drive to the boy, though Benson was certainly in no position to judge time accurately. At last the team was halted, along a stretch of road in a deep woods. The mulatto lifted the submarine boy out to the ground. “Now, w’en yo’s got yo’ se’f free, yo’ can take de road in dat direckshun,” declared the fellow, pointing. “Bimeby yo’ come in sight ob de town.
“Had the others all got back? Mrs. Laferm? Melicent? did they all stop at the store, too?” “Who? Aunt Thrérèse? no, she was up at the house w’en I lef’ I reckon Miss Melicent was there too. Talkin’ ’bout fun, it’s to git into one o’ them big spring wagons on a moonlight night, like they do in Centaville sometimes; jus’ packed down with young folks and start out fur a dance up the coast.
Word Of The Day