United States or Bouvet Island ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Gibbons made effort to catch her little daughter, but this time the child wriggled down from the foot of the bed and came toward me, hands behind her back, and stared up into my face. "Whatcha name?" I told her and asked hers, and without further preliminaries she came close to me and hunched her shoulders to be taken in my lap. "We've got to go we're bound to go, Miss Dandridge!"
Here was the place where academic information would be useful and the chance for an "in." Jimmy shoved himself into the small group and said, "Get a longer handle." They turned on him suspiciously. "Whatcha know about it?" demanded one, shoving his chin out. "Get a longer handle," repeated Jimmy. "Go ahead, get one." "G'wan " "Wait, Moe. Maybe " "Who's he?" "I'm Jimmy." "Jimmy who?"
"W'at's eatin' you? Is they an answer?" "They ain't no answer," P. Sybarite admitted. "Well, whatcha want? I got no time to stick round here kiddin'." "One moment of your valuable time. I believe you delivered a message at the Monastery Apartments in Forty-third Street this morning." "Well, an' what 'f I did?" "Only this."
"Yes, sir," he said, at which Master Freddie hung tightly upon Jurgis's neck and went into a fit of laughter. "Hamilton, you damn ole scoundrel," he roared, "I'll 'scharge you for impudence, you see 'f I don't! Ho, ho, ho! I'm drunk! Ho, ho!" The two waited until his fit had spent itself, to see what new whim would seize him. "Whatcha wanta do?" he queried suddenly.
Warble edged toward the stranger, and murmured nothing in particular, but somehow he drifted into the last and only vacant seat at her table. She whisked him a 2 x 2 napkin, dumped a clatter of flatware at him, and stood, awaiting his order. The pause becoming lengthy, she murmured with her engaging smile, "Whatcha want to eat?"
He stood aside while the man backed, turned a wide half-circle and drove into the grateful shade of the garage. It seemed cool in there after the blistering sunlight, unless one glanced at Casey's thermometer which declared a hundred and nineteen with its inexorable red line. "Whatcha got there? Goats?"
"My dear young lady, the first consideration isn't to 'have somebody show you' or anybody else a room, but to ascertain if you are a fit person to come here." Mrs. Fike jabbed at a compartment of her desk, yanked out a corduroy-bound book, boxed its ears, slammed it open, glared at Una in a Christian and Homelike way, and began to shoot questions: "Whatcha name?" "Una Golden." "Miss uh Miss?"
Duvall had almost begun to despair of getting one, when he heard the clicking of the electric latch, and found that he could turn the knob and enter the hallway. He had barely done so, when at big, burly-looking man, who might have been a bartender, or a head waiter, appeared in the door of one of the ground floor apartments, clad only in his night clothes. "Well whatcha want?" he growled.
She was still holding it in the palm of her hand when the kitchen door again slammed and the handy man limped into the room. He carried two pails of milk across the kitchen and set them down near the sink. "Whatcha lookin' at, Miz Thompson?" Barney Hatfield asked. Hetty frowned at the egg in her hand without answering. Barney limped around the side of the table for a closer look.
I commanded, sternly. "Obey orders and you will not be hurt." He shrank away, sinking upon the bench, his face upturned so that the light fell full upon it, for the instant too greatly surprised and frightened to give utterance to a sound. His mouth hung open, and his eyes stared at me. "Who who wus yer? Whatcha want yere?" "I am asking questions, and you are answering them. Are you armed?
Word Of The Day