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Updated: June 5, 2025
I don't believe it; who does? Wot'll your poor mother say?" and the like. Bumpus had, unfortunately, good ground for making this statement. After the cutter sailed it was discovered that Bumpus was concealed in Mrs. Stuart's cottage.
'They'd better be, threatened the other, 'or I'll know how to make 'em so. Ah, that I shall. 'You talk idly, man, said the bishop, coldly. 'I talk wot'll do, m' lord. Who's yer son, anyhow? My gal's as good as he, an' a sight better. She's born on the right side of the blanket, she is. There now!
"That's all right," said the shifty-eyed host; "we're early birds, we are, in this 'ere 'ouse. We goes to bed early too. Wot'll ye 'ave for breakfast?" "Never mind breakfast; we'll get that when we get aboard," replied Leigh. "Good-night; it's very good of you to put us up."
"Oh!" he exclaimed, and looked after her wonderingly. "Here's yer mornin' paper!" yelled a newsboy. "Mine, did you say?" she asked. "Sure! Chronicle, 'Quirer, R'public 'n' 'Spatch! Wot'll ye 'ave?" "What are they for?" inquired the wax lady, simply. "W'y, ter read, o' course. All the news, you know." She shook her head and glanced at a paper. "It looks all speckled and mixed up," she said.
"'Them's my orders, ses the skipper, swelling his chest and looking round, 'to everybody. You know wot'll 'appen to you, Joe, if things ain't right when I come back. Come along, Bill, and lock the gate arter me. An' mind, for your own sake, don't let anything 'appen to that gal while I'm away. "'Wot time'll you be back? I ses, as 'e stepped through the wicket.
So when the earth's set down on 'is grave a bit, an' the daisies is a-growin' on the grass, I'll mebbe 'ave got an idea wot'll please ye. 'E aint left any mossel o' paper writ out like, with wot 'e'd like put on 'im, I s'pose?" Mary felt the colour rush to her face. "N no! Not that I know of, Mr. Twitt," she said.
"What of it? Don't you learn well enough, over at the school?" "More dar like me. Wot'd I do in a place whar all de res' was w'ite?" "Well as anybody." "Wot'll my mudder say, w'en she gits de news? You isn't a-jokin', is you, Dab Kinzer?" "Joking? I guess not." "You's lit onto me powerful sudden 'bout dis. Yonder's Ford an' Frank a-comin'. Don't tell 'em. Not jes' yit." "They know all about it.
One never knows wot 'e's fit for till 'e tries. Wot'll Hetty think, I wonder?" What Hetty thought he soon found out, for he overtook her on the Thames embankment on her way home. Bobby was fond of that route, though a little out of his way, because he loved the running water, though it was muddy, and the sight of steamers and barges.
"Oh!" exclaimed Gurney, with a look of horror, "listen to him, messmates, he calls it `soup' the nasty kettle o' dirty water! Well, well, it's lucky we hain't got nothin' better to compare it with." "But, I say, lads," interposed Jim Scroggles, seriously, "wot'll we do if it comes on to blow a gale and blows away all our purvisions?"
"Dis is the gen'l'man wot'll go on Mr. Tulitz's bond, mum," said the guard. "His name's Rivers." "Madam Tulitz, I am your humble and obedient servant. Colonel Rivers, Colonel Edward Lawrence Rivers, and most happy in this unfortunate emergency to serve you. I have read in the papers of M. Tulitz's disagreeable er situation. It is a gross outrage. The bail is $5000, this gentleman tells me.
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