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"'Wud ye rather haave a boilin' kittle than love if ye had t' choose? "'Och, no, not at all, ye know rightly I wudn't. "'Forby, Jamie, we've given Antrim more'n such men as Lord Massarene. "'What's that? says I. "'A maan that loves th' poorest craithers on earth an' serves thim. "She had a gey good sleep afther that." "'Jamie, says she whin she awoke, 'was I ravin'?
They're all that stand betune me and dis-ris-pect-ability. Av I didn't shave, I wud be torminted wid an outrajis thurrst; for there's nothin' so dhryin' to the throat as a big billy-goat beard waggin' undher the chin. Ye wudn't have me dhrink always, Dinah Shadd? By the same token, you're kapin' me crool dhry now. Let me look at that whiskey."
But I reckon I do now yer in love with her yerself; ain't thet it, sir?" "Yes, Tim," I confessed frankly, and not at all sorry to make the avowal. "That is the truth. Now what would you do if you were in my place?" "Just exactly whut yer doin', I reckon," he returned heartily. "Only maybe I'd kill thet dirty skunk afore I went away; damned if I wudn't." I shook my head. "No, not in cold-blood.
"Marse Whately des set out ter mar'y you, ez ef you wuz a post dat cud be stood up en mar'd to enybody at eny time. Hi! Miss Lou, I'se bettah off dan you, fer I kin pick en choose my ole man." "Everybody in the world is better off than I am." "I wudn't stan' it, Miss Lou. I sut'ny wudn't. I'd runned away." "How could I run away? Where could I go to?"
Yuh wudn't 'member thar was a feller back here chewin' his fingers off worryin' about yuh . . . an' workin' the shart offen his back an' gittin' thin fer the fambly, an' not even a horse to git about. . . . Nobody but a bunch o' roughnecks an' houn's 'poligisin' tuh yuh, Juno, fer callin' them critters houn's. They're c'yutes, that's wot they are.
And all the time it was pitiful to see how the child was gobbling up her unpalatable food, evidently from the instinctive fear, nasty as it was, that it would be taken from her as a punishment for her behaviour. 'Now, Louie, yo're a silly gell, began Reuben, expostulating; but Hannah interposed. 'I wudn't advise yo, Reuben Grieve, to go wastin your breath on sich a minx.
"That's what I say, docthor," answered Tommy, "but the bloody haythen wudn't let him in." "How's this, Swipey?" said the doctor sternly, turning to the saloon-keeper, who still stood in the door. "He's not comin' in here. How do I know what he's got?" "I'll take that responsibility," replied the doctor. "In he goes. Here, take him up on the robe, men. Steady, now."
"Sure, it's a good land, an' a foine counthry it is to make a livin' in," she continued with a glow of enthusiasm, "an' it's mesilf that knows it." "Oh, the country is all right," said Mr. Staunton impatiently; "but did not this man abandon his wife?" "An' if he's the man ye think he is wudn't she be the better quit av him?" The lawyer had reached the limit of his patience. "Well, well, Mrs.
They either intend threatening her, or else to actually resort to force likely both. No doubt they can rely on this renegade preacher in either case." "Jack didn't name no name?" "No why?" "Only thar uster be a bum hangin' round the river front in Saint Louee who hed preacher's papers, en wore a long-tailed coat. Thar wan't no low-down game he wudn't take a hand in fer a drink.
"I misremimber fwhat nonsinse I said, but I was not so far gone that I cud not hear a fut on the dirt outside. 'Twas Bragin comin' in, an' by the same token Annie was comin' to. I jumped to the far end av the veranda an' looked as if butter wudn't melt in my mouth. But Mrs. Quinn, the Quarter-Master's wife that was, had tould Bragin about my hangin' round Annie.
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