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Updated: May 4, 2025
"I ought to have stayed at the law, sor; I'd be a magistrate by now a-sittin' on a sheepskin instead of "Where'll I put this big canvas, sor up agin the bow or laid flat? The last coat ain't dry yet," he muttered to himself, touching my picture with his finger in true paper-hanger style. "Oh, yes, I see all ready, sor, ye kin step in. Same place we painted yesterday, sor? up near the mill?
Well, the thing to do is to get hold of him and wake him up and pay off his debts to Mark, which most like run to several thousand." "Several thousand, Ronicky? But where'll we get the money?" "You forget that I can always get money. It grows on the bushes for me." He grinned at Bill Gregg. "Once we get Jerry Smith, then the whole gang of us will head straight West, as fast as we can step.
I don't know what he'll do when the Indians are gone." "Mr. Levine," asked Lydia, "where'll the Indians go?" John shrugged his shoulders. "Go to the devil, most of them." "Oh, but that seems terrible!" cried Lydia. "No more terrible than the way they live and die on the reservation. My dear child, don't develop any sentiment for the Indian. He's as doomed as the buffalo.
"Not like the last, mind; it was good water spoilt. I'll never come in 'ere again." "So you say!" said the girl, moving out of his way and laughing loudly. "Strike me balmy if I do!" "Where'll yer go then?" "Round the corner, of course," was the answer. "There's another bird there and cawfee! It's some stuff too, not like 'ere." "All right; don't come in again if yer don't want ter."
All his folks in Scotland." "Scotland, did ye say?" Something appeared to wake up in the little maid. "Look here, why don't ye get a doctor instead o' daunderin' your time here?" "Git a doctor?" echoed Sam in vast surprise. "And ain't I tryin' to git a doctor? Where'll I git a doctor?" "Go to the hospital, ye gawk, and ask for Dr.
When the men lay at last on their oars, and swore that they must have passed the ship, and they would go no farther, he alone listened indifferently, nay, felt a faint hope born in him. "'Tis a black Protestant fog!" O'Sullivan cried. "Where'll we be, I wonder?" "Sure, ye can make no mistake," one answered. "The wind's light off the land." "We'll be pulling back, lads." "That's the word."
"I'll help," put in Ned. "Where'll we get the stuff?" "I guess there's enough in the club treasury for a little spread," said Bart. "This is the last game of the summer season, and we might as well spend some of our cash. We don't want to get too rich." By this time most of the High School pupils had left the ball grounds and were on their various ways home.
The girl, standing by the door, heard them break forth an instant later in clamorous whispers. "Where'll we hide? Where'll we hide? There hain't a place to hide!" The girl turned and glanced wildly about the barn. It seemed true. The stock of hay had grown low under Santo's endless munching, and from occasional levyings by passing troopers in gray.
We're running down that C. & S. C. business, though I don't believe, myself, that they'll give you any more trouble." Bannon read it to Hilda, saying as he laid it down: "That's something like. I don't know where'll I go, though. Winter ain't exactly the time for a vacation, unless you go shooting, and I'm no hand for that." "Couldn't you put it off till summer?" she asked, smiling a little.
"Looks more to me as if he had fainted from sheer starvation," returned Clemantiny brusquely as she picked him up in her lean, muscular arms. "Why, he's skin and bone. He ain't hardly heavier than a baby. Well, this is a mysterious piece of work. Where'll I put him?"
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