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Updated: June 11, 2025
Two street sweepers, seated on a curbstone, were discussing a comrade who had died the day before. "Bill certainly was a good sweeper," said one. "Y-e-s," conceded the other thoughtfully. "But don't you think he was a little weak around the lamp-posts?" His face was pinched and drawn. With faltering footsteps he wended his way among the bustling Christmas crowd.
If he finds out that anybody has quit dis brig dis werry night, woful will come! It no good to try to run; I run t'ree time, an' Simon here run twice. What good it all do? We got cotched, and here we is, just as fast as ever. I knows Cap'in Spike, and does n't want to fall in athwart his hawse any more." "Y-e-s, dat my judgment too," put in the cook.
Why, that makes three on her hands. Well, she's a remarkable girl, Alfred, and she's pretty. Don't you think so?" She was toying with the fringe of her shawl, and yet she seemed to hang upon his answer as she gazed straight at him. "Y-e-s," Henley said. "She really has undertaken a lot, but I reckon she'll pull through, someway or other."
"Ah!" said Barnabas, chin in hand, "but why?" "Well, you'll remember that the only time you met him he was inclined to be just a l-ee-tle violent, perhaps?" "When he attacked me with the bottle, yes!" sighed Barnabas, "but surely that was only because he was drunk?" "Y-e-s, perhaps so," said Mr. Smivvle, fumbling for his whisker again, "but this morning he wasn't so drunk as usual." "Well?"
And the two as goes ashore 'll reckon upon catchin' of you calmly asleep in your tent, there, and makin' you tell 'em where Turnbull is." "Y-e-s," assented Leslie, thoughtfully, "it is quite likely that they may do some such thing as that. Yes; no doubt they will do that, sooner or later; if not to-morrow night, then the night after, or the night after that again.
"Not until to-morrow!" "How do you spell No?" "Y-e-s." "Oh, Betty," exclaimed Patty, laughing, "I didn't know you were so witty!" "Good gracious! don't call me that! Here, stop this examination right now! I won't be called witty. Why, don't you know "'Though you're sweet and though you're pretty, Men won't love you if you're witty! "I'm always afraid of not being loved!"
"Y-e-s!" said Philip, hardly knowing what he said, and hurrying back into the stables to order out the greys. The place to which he was bound was some miles distant, and it was sunset when he returned. As he drove into the main street, two men observed him closely. "That is he! I am almost sure it is," said one. "Oh! then it's all smooth sailing," replied the other.
Unexpected and dangerous symptoms were rapidly developing in the perverse girl, and trouble was brewing "in Derbyshire." The adjective perverse, by the way, usually is superfluous when used to modify the noun girl. "Yet you hate Lord Rutland," I repeated. "Why, y-e-s," she responded. "I cannot help that, but you know it would be very wrong to to hate all his family. To hate him is bad enough."
Y-e-s; but then only think of the flowers that crown the work, and you might spend an equal amount of time in pricking cloth with a steel splinter and embroidering something, in the often taken-in-vain name of decorative art, that in the end is only an elaborated rag without even the bone and the hank of hair! Woodridge, September 10.
I suspected a double meaning in her words, but no trace of self-consciousness was visible in her face. "I have often wondered, Fräulein, if the papers reached the castle before the duke arrived?" asked Max. "What papers?" queried Yolanda. "Why, the papers we made the mad race to deliver," answered Max. "Oh, y-e-s," responded the girl, "they arrived just in time." "And were delivered at the gate?"
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