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Updated: April 30, 2025
When'll we start?" demanded Romper. "Just as soon as the money arrives. About Tuesday, I should guess," said Bruce, as the lads left Mr. Ford's house. It is hardly natural for ten thoroughly healthy scouts to be confined to the restricted limits of a day coach for four solid hours without becoming extremely weary of the monotony of it all.
From this exchange of pleasantries the talk passed to various subjects the affairs of Jack Bartley and his precious wife, changes in Clerkenwell Close, then to Clem's own circumstances; she threw out hints of brilliant things in store for her. 'Do you come here often? she asked at length. 'Can't say I do. 'Thought p'r'aps you brought Mrs. Pennyloaf. When'll you be here again?
Plunkett" for grandma did not like them to use the village nickname said Cricket, after a moment, "and Auntie Jean will be here to-morrow." "An' it's a pretty-spoken lady she is," answered Marm Plunkett. "But it's Mis' Maxwell that I allers wants ter see most. When'll she git to see me agin?" Cricket coloured furiously. "Grandma's lame, now," she said, speaking up bravely.
Green had taken up her baby and was feeding it, and the other women, with sullen faces, had resumed their neglected duties. "Oh dear! Must you go?" Tommy exclaimed as Theo got off the cot on which he had been sitting. "But you was real good to come, anyhow. When'll ye come again an' tell me some more letters?" "I'll show ye one ev'ry day if I can get time.
She opened the door and passed into the passage. "I'd best be going," she said, still half-wishful to linger anxious not to make herself cheap, yet wishing he would start some conversation which would make it possible to stay without seeming to want to over much. "When'll you be out again?" asked Archelaus, his foot in the door. "I don't know." "I do. Good-night, lil' thing!"
"Wot's the good o' talking like that to me?" said the indignant Mr. Smith. "The best thing you can do is to get 'er married to Teddy at once, afore 'e knows of 'is luck." "And when'll that be?" inquired his friend, in a calmer voice. "Any time," said the boarding-master, shrugging his shoulders. "The old gentleman might go out to-night, or again 'e might live on for a week or more.
His death will mean something in financial circles." "Yessir. He was a big plute. Here's your time-table, Mr. Burruz. When'll you be back?" "Don't know, Don. You look after things." "Sure! everything'll be took care of. Lemme know your orders when you have 'em."
"And I tried to kid him!" breathed Glass with disgust, when the visitor had gone. "I ain't been in right since Garfield was shot." "It's a telegram from Covington!" cried Speed, tearing open the message. "At last!" "Thank the Lord!" Glass started forward eagerly. "When'll he be here? Quick!" Then he paused. J. Wallingford Speed had gone deathly pale, and was reeling slightly. "What's wrong?"
When'll yeh be in?" "I'll leave a note for you with O'Hagan. Is that all?" "Yep that is, there's somethin' else...." "Well?" "Excuse me for mentionin' it, but I didn't know it ain't generally known, yeh know, 'nd one uh th' boys might've heard me speak tuh yer lady by name 'nd might pass it on to a reporter.
It was certainly an extraordinary crowd. It had assembled almost in an instant. Scarcely had the policemen taken their places at the doors of the Cooper Union when a bulky, variegated young man stepped up to one of them. "Hello!" he said. "Hello, Meejor," responded the officer. "When'll yer open de door?" "Air ye wantin' t' git in, Meejor?" "Doncher know I got a gang to-night?"
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