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Updated: May 21, 2025
"Try it," snapped his father, "and that'll be the last thing you'll have to do with your Gitchie whatever-you-call-it." The next evening, which concluded the big day of the Stampede, twenty thousand people attended the long afternoon's program. When the aeroplane appeared for its fourth flight, an army of people surrounded the starting field.
The Captain kept up a constant stream of conversation on the way down to the wharf. Suddenly, Miss Pipkin stopped, and suspiciously eyed the seaman. "Josiah, how are we going back?" "In my Jennie P." "In your what?" "In my power-boat, the Jennie P." "Josiah Pott! You know I ain't been aboard a boat for more than twenty year, and I ain't going to start out on the thing, whatever-you-call-it!"
Tut! tut! tut! Now, honest, Mrs. Hepton, ain't this er whatever-you-call-it a close relation a sort of hash with its city clothes on, hey?" The landlady admitted that a souffle was something not unlike a hash. Captain Elisha nodded. "I thought so," he declared. "I was sartin sure I couldn't be mistaken. What is it used to be in the song book? 'You can smash you can Well, I don't remember.
We ought to have a keg of cider instead of two jugs of lemonade and we should have brought it in a wheelbarrow instead of in the Ford." "Well, we couldn't take Mr. March back in a wheelbarrow," Sylvia said, "so I'm glad it isn't the first act of whatever-you-call-it. Because he's simply got to fix the piano well enough for jazz."
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