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Updated: June 9, 2025
Jonathan an' Reuben Merryweather's gal drove up from Applegate. Ah, sech a sight as she was all in shot silk that rustled when you looked at it an' as pretty as a pictur." "So they've come back?" asked Abel, almost in a whisper. "Yes, they've come back, an' a sad comin' it was for her, as I could see in her face. 'What are you wearin' yo' Sunday best for, Mr. Doolittle? asked Mr.
Still, I'd played fair all the while, an' I 'lowed 'at the Earl o' Clarenden could stand it, and I needed the money a heap more'n some who might 'a' won it. When old Bill Sykes came in to report to me I was wearin' a plug hat on the back o' my head an' sportin' a white vest an' a red necktie, so I looked enough like the real thing to make it easy for him to act his part.
"Oh, keep a askin', and a naggin'! That is what wears out us public men, wimmin's questionin'. It hain't so much the public duties we have to perform that ages us, and wears us out before our time, it is woman's weak curiosity on public topics, that her mind is too feeble to grasp holt of. It is wearin'," says he haughtily. Says I, "Specially when they don't know what to answer."
Poor woman, she says he talked so plain she sees 'em both herself, iv'ry time she looks at the poor body where it's laid out. She says " "Don't tell me!" cried the impressionable Della. "Don't tell me, Mrs. Cullen! I can most see 'em meself, right here in me own kitchen! Poor Tom! To think whin I bought me new hat, only last week, the first time I'd be wearin' it'd be to his funeral.
"Mamie she couldn't wear them 'ere." "So you haven't any flannel shirts?" Maria asked of Mamie. "I'm wearin' mummer's," said Mamie. "Mummer's they shrunk so she couldn't wear 'em, and Jessy couldn't nuther." "What is your mother wearing?" asked Maria. "Mr. John Dorsey he bought her some new ones," replied Mamie, and a light of evil intelligence came into the mean little face. "Who is Mr.
"Sez I, 'It is enough to kill a young woman to have to be on the go all the time, as she has had to. Sez I, 'The American Eagle has jest driv her about from pillar to post. And Uncle Sam has most wore his old legs out a-escortin' her about "from pleasure to palaces," as the Him reads. "And then, sez I, 'She has had considerable to do with Ward McAllister, and he's dretful wearin'.
Scum ... some of ’em wearin’ blue coats, some gray, but they was all jus’ murderin’ outlaws. What did they whine when they was caught? Did th’ Yankees run ’em in, then they was unlucky Reb scouts. An’ when our boys licked up a nest of th’ varmints—why, we’d taken us a mess o’ respectable Yank ’Irregulars,’ ’cordin’ to their story. ’Course none of their protestin’ kept ’em from stretched necks."
"Wotcher say, guv'nor?" asked the cabman. "I say did you see a gentleman approaching from the corner?" asked Dunbar. "Yus," declared the man; "I see 'im, but 'e 'adn't got as far as the Johnny 'Orner. As I passed outside old Tom Brian, wot's changin' 'is gear, I see a bloke blowin' along on the pavement a bloke in a high 'at, an' wearin' a heye-glass."
And how they did snicker when Miss Joyce first reported for duty wearin' that tam and costumed tacky in something a cross-roads dressmaker had done her worst on. Miss Joyce didn't seem to mind. By rights she should have been a shy, modest little thing who would have been so cut up that she'd have rushed into the cloak room and spilled a quart of salt tears.
I dunno, though. You either got to understand 'em and be rough to 'em, or be good to 'em and then they understand you. Guess they ain't no regular guide-book on how to git along with wimmen. Well, I never come West for me health. I brung it with me, but I ain't goin' to take chances by fallin' in love. Writin' po'try is wearin' enough." For a while he rode silently, enjoying his utter freedom.
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