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Updated: May 11, 2025
They do talk, the hills and the woods and the quiet, only a fellow grows dull, gets his ears full of electric gongs and push-bells, and forgets to listen." The boy looked up with quick-witted question. "Y'aint f'm this part of the kentry, air you?" he asked. "No. I am from well, from Bessietown last. Where are you from?" The boy laughed and glanced gaily at his briar-torn clothes.
He viewed it, of course, solely in its relation to the hotel business, and, I think, regarded it as a recent invention. "It's comin' in all the time in the city," he said, "and y'aint expected to understand it." Mr. Smith would take the carte between his finger and thumb and stare at it.
My friends say to thank you for the invite, but they aren't thirsty. Did you know that we had a spring of cold water up here?" The fellow grew angry. "If youse don't come youse'll be damn sorry, Mister. You've plugged a couple o' our fellas pretty bad an' y'aint goin' to git away with nothin' like that." "Why, what will you do?" "We'll damn soon show you, Mister.
"I guess y'aint chopped many sticks, 'ave yer?" "No," I said; "and I'm terrified of the thing!" I sat on the steps and watched him deftly slicing the wood into thin slips. "This is a fatigue," I said, by way of an explanation. That tickled him! He stopped and chuckled, "You do fatigues just the same as we do?" he asked. "I never heard anything to beat that. Well I never, wot's the crime, I wonder?
"They're not for Keogh," said Charlie. "They're for me. I've taken Keogh's block over." The old man looked at him dubiously. "Well, but y'aint goin' to tie hup no dorg on us for 'em, are yer? I s'pose it's all right, though?" "Right, yes," said Gordon. "It's for Mr. Grant, Old Man Grant, you've heard of Grant of Kuryong?" "Never 'eard of him," said the aged man, "but it makes no hodds.
Nat got some absorbent cotton and adhesive plaster. "Been drinking again, hadn't you?" "Yesh," Pete admitted with a leer of drunken cunning. "But she druv me to it." He was quiet for a moment. "Mish'r Duncan," he volunteered cheerfully, "you ain't got no idee how lucky y'are y'aint married." "Is that so?" Nat returned with the dressings. "No idee'tall."
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