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Get Stearne house or Ridgeway house. Wanna have it so people say: 'There's Ahearn house. Solid, you know, tha's effec' it gives." Evylyn flushed. This didn't sound right at all. Still Ahearn didn't seem to notice anything amiss, only nodded gravely. "Have you been looking " But her words trailed off unheard as Harold's voice boomed on. "Get house tha's start. Then you get know people.
He gazed ferociously up at the driver of the truck. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded belligerently. The driver spoke sternly, repeating what he'd said before. The drunk assumed an air of outraged dignity. "If I wanna stay here, that's my business! Who th' hell are you anyways, disturbin' a citizen tax-payer on his lawful occasions? Are you Martians? I wouldn't put it pasht you!"
Too Berculosis is the way the exhibits and the newspapers say it. L-u-n-g-s is another way to spell it. "Too Berculosis!" Sara Juke's hand flew to her little breast. "Too Berculosis! Hat, you you don't " "Sure I don't. I ain't saying it's that only I wanna scare you up a little.
"Nemmine where," smiled Racey, for both Bill and Rod had been his friends in his 88 days and could therefore insult him with impunity. "I wouldn't wanna put li'l boys in the way of temptation. Does the cook still spank him regular, Rod?" "Stab his hoss with the scissors, Rod," begged Bill Allen. "Let's see what for a rider Mr. Dawson is." Racey pressed his off rein against his horse's neck.
Her voice, he considered, was unnecessarily loud. He looked up resentfully. "You wanna order or doncha?" "Of course," he protested. "Well, I ast you three times. This ain't no rest-room." He glanced at the big clock and discovered with a start that it was after two. He was down around Thirtieth Street somewhere, and after a moment he found and translated the
"With anybody pouting in the house I just 'ain't got heart to do nothing. I don't see, Sadie, that you had such fine connections in the East that you shouldn't be satisfied here." "You just leave my friends in the East out of it. If you wanna know it, they're a darn sight better than the wads of respectability I see waddlin' in here to swap Kaffee Klatsches with you!"
"C'mon, Racey, come alive," urged Swing Tunstall, making a great business of shaking awake his drunken friend. "You don't wanna stay here no longer. I know a fine place where you can sleep it off." Ten minutes later Racey and Swing were sitting comfortably on a pile of hay in Tom Kane's new stable. Racey pulled off his boots, flopped down on the hay, and clasped his hands behind his head.
"I gotta sick wife, bo. Couldn't you slip me one in a 'mergency?" "What's the idea chicken broth? You better go in the park and catch her a chippie." "On the level, friend, one of them little yellow things would cheer her up. She's great one for pets." "Can't you see they're half-dead now? What you wanna cheer her up with a corpse? If I had my way, I'd wring the whole display's neck, anyhow."
"I honest, I sometimes I just wish I was dead!" "No, you don't, Doll. You know you just wanna go to-night, but you 'ain't got the nerve. I wanna show you a Christmas Eve that'll leave any Christmas Eve you ever spent at the post. Gad! look out there, will you? I'm going to taxicab you right through the fuzz of that there snow-storm if it costs every cent the filly won for us!" Mrs.
We'll thank you for yore helping hand to our dying day." "I guess you will," Tom Loudon said, ruefully. "When you get through here, Racey, you and Swing come on over to the wagon shed. I wanna sift through this Jack Harpe business once more." "Kind friends, you must pity my horrible tale. I'm an object of sorrow, I'm looking quite stale.
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