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'What for will you? 'Oh! you women! Are you a little innocent, Hazel? Or are you a d d clever woman? 'I dunno. But I canna come no more. 'Won't, you mean. Very well. 'What'n you mean, saying "very well" so choppy? 'I mean that if a man chooses to see a woman, see her he will. It's his place to find ways. It's her privilege to hide if she likes, or do any d d thing she likes.

"Oh, my God!" sobbed a wounded artilleryman, lifting himself from the blood-stained grass, "is this what I enlisted for? Are you boys going to leave us behind to rot in rebel prisons?" "Damn you!" shrieked another, "you ain't licked! What'n hell are you runnin' away for? Gimme a gun an' a hoss an' I'll go back with you to the river!"

Lord Ipsden, rising gently from his seat, with the same quiet politeness with which he would have received two princes of the blood, said, "How do you do?" and smiled a welcome. "Fine! hoow's yoursel?" answered the dark lass, whose name was Jean Carnie, and whose voice was not so sweet as her face. "What'n lord are ye?" continued she; "are you a juke? I wad like fine to hae a crack wi' a juke."

But this was the fancy of a passing moment, for I was waiting for the big fellow to speak. He did speak, and rather spoiled the impression. "What'n the hell kind of a dump is this anyway?" he exploded. I was hit as with a brickbat, but I tried not to show it.

Throw the stuff out at the door." Jake only shook his head more firmly. "It ain't no good preachin', George, or gettin' sore, for I've quit tryin'. "What'n the hell's the good, anyway. The more you fight, the rawer a deal you get in the finish. Forget it! I'm drinkin' now whenever I'm good and ready; any old time at all and as much as I want, and more." I could do no more for him.

The Misses Beamish went into fits of laughter, and Tilly hit Purdy over the back with her parasol. But the string of letters had puzzled them, roused their curiosity. "What'n earth do they mean? Gracious! So clever! It makes me feel quite queer." "Y'ought to 'ave told us before 'and, Purd, so's we could 'ave studied up." However, a walk to a cave was under discussion, and Purdy urged them on.

"Surrender, you consarned rebels, or we'll blow your heads off," he added, as he and Shorty jumped forward into the opening and leveled their guns on the squad. "What'n thunder was you fellers makin' all that racket fur," Si asked the Sergeant as he was marching him back to the skirmish-line.

What'n thunder 'r' y' abaout, y' darned Portagee?" said a sharp, resolute voice. Dick looked from the weapon to the person who held it, and saw Abel Stebbins, the doctor's man, standing over him. "Let me up! Let me up!" he cried in a low, hurried voice. "I'll give you a hundred dollars in gold to let me go. The man a'n't hurt don't you see him stirring? He'll come to himself in two minutes.

Mahony paid it, and stalked out of the office. But this was still not all. Once again Grindle ran after him, and pinned him to the floor. "I say, Mr. Mahony, a rare joke gad, it's enough to make you burst your sides! That old thingumbob, the plaintiff, ye know, now what'n earth d'you think 'e's been an' done? Gets outer court like one o'clock 'e'd a sorter rabbit-fancyin' business in 'is backyard.

'Well, mister, he inquired glumly, 'what'n you after? Money for them missions to buy clothes for savages as 'd liefer go bare? Or money for them poor clergy? I'm poorer nor the clergy. 'I want to marry Hazel. Abel flung back his head and roared. Then he jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards Hazel. 'What? 'er? he queried in ecstasies of mirth. ''Er? Look at the floor, man!