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"They'm better to Northam more rich, laike an' us gets them give back again," he said, while McTurk solemnly waltzed Mother Yeo out of breath, and Beetle told Mary the sad news, as they sat down to clotted cream, jam, and hot bread. "Yiss. Yeou'll niver zee us no more, Mary. We're goin' to be passons an' missioners." "Steady the Buffs!" said McTurk, looking through the blind.
"Honey," responded Miss Bailey, her wrath quite turned away by this soft answer, "you could do beautifully if you would only look at the board instead of staring at the new boy." "Yiss ma'am," acquiesced Eva. "But, oh, Teacher, Missis Bailey, ain't he the sweet dude!" "Do you think so? Well, you need not stop writing to look at him, because you will be seeing him every day. "In this class?
Patrick doubled like a jack-knife and Miss Bailey did her duty. When it was over she was more distressed than was her victim. "Patrick, I'm so sorry this happened," said she. "But you remember that I warned you that I should whip you if you touched Isaac. Well, you did and I did. You know all the children know that I always keep my word." "Yiss ma'an," murmured the frightened First Reader Class.
But say, Teacher, Missis Bailey, horses ain't like cats." "No, dear, I know; that was a wicked horse." "Yiss ma'an; I guess you don't know 'bout horses. You said boys should make all times what is loving mit horses, but horses don't make what is lovin' mit boys. Und my mamma she says it's a foolishness you should make what is lovin' mit somebody sooner somebody don't make what is loving mit you."
Mogilewsky," began Miss Bailey, gently, "there is nothing you could say to her that would make her more sorry than she is. She is broken-hearted already, and if you don't stop talking like that you will make her cry. And then Morris would surely cry too; shouldn't you, dearie?" "Teacher, yiss ma'an," quavered Morris. "You!" groaned Mrs. Mogilewsky. "Be you Morris's teacher?
And then, with a quick memory of the note and of his anger: "Miss Bailey, who is this young man?" And Teacher, of whose hobbies Morris was one, answered warmly: "That is Morris Mogilewsky, the best of boys. He takes care of the gold-fish, and does all sorts of things for me. Don't you, dear?" "Teacher, yiss ma'an," Morris answered. "I'm lovin' much mit you.
The horse stood on his foot and bruised it rather badly, but he has all his fingers and his ring too. Haven't you, old man?" "Yiss ma'an, yiss sir; I got it here," answered the boy, as, with his uninjured hand, he drew up his battered trophy, hung about his neck on a piece of antiseptic gauze. "It's from sure gold und you gives it to me over that cat.
"And has he been with you ever since the day before yesterday?" "Teacher, yiss, ma'am." "Does he seem to be happy and all right?" "Teacher, yiss, ma'am." "But," asked Miss Bailey, suddenly practical, "what does the poor little fellow eat? Of course ten cents would buy a lot of food for one boy, but not so very much for two." "Teacher, no, ma'am," says Morris; "it ain't so very much."
"Mr. Duncan, he is the ninth. He come here when he was no bigger than little Grey tertius. My old regiment, too. Yiss, nine to us, Mr. Corkran, up to date." The boys went out into the wet, walking swiftly. "Wonder how it feels to be shot and all that," said Stalky, as they splashed down a lane. "Where did it happen, Beetle?" "Oh, out in India somewhere. We're always rowin' there.
Her body failed her for a moment; she dropped beneath a hedge, and looked back at the great house. In some fashion its silence and stolidity steadied her for her errand. Mrs. Betts, small, black-eyed, and dark, was almost as unconcerned as Friars Pardon. "Yiss, yiss, of course. Dear me! Well, Iggulden he had had his day in my father's time. Muriel, get me my little blue bag, please. Yiss, ma'am.
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