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Updated: August 6, 2024
He is my guardian you know, and, of course, I must do as he wishes, but I hope oh I HOPE, he will let me do this." "And what is it you so wish to do, Filiola?" asked a gentle voice within the room. Peggy gave a little cry of delight. "Oh, Compadre, when did you come?
But he said: 'I am gone, my Becodar. I haven't got five minutes in me. Put on your compadreship quick. I snatched up the sombrero and put it on, and his I tucked under his head. So that we were compadres again. Ah, senor, senor! Soon he drew my cheek down to his and said: 'Adios, compadre: Bernal is thine now. While your eyes see, and your foot travels, let him not want a friend.
Compadre will see that I'm not quite an ignoramus, Harrison keeps me decently clad and properly lectured, and Mammy looks to my feeding when I'm well and dosing when I'm not, which, thank goodness, isn't often. Why Daddy, I'm so happy. So perfectly happy. Please, please don't spoil it," and Peggy rose to slip her arm within her father's and "pace the deck" as he called it.
Jerome took pity upon me and fed me to keep me in a good temper. "Oh, Compadre, I want you to know my new friend, Mrs. Harold and her niece, Polly Howland. We have been having the loveliest visit together." Dr. Llewellyn advanced to meet the guests, one arm still encircling his ward, the other extended to take Mrs. Harold's hand as he said: "This is a great pleasure, madam.
Drew rummaged frantically, turning the pocket inside out. When—who? "What papers, compadrê?" Drew explained. "You’ve been wearin’ that there belt constantly, ain’t you?" "Yes. Except—" He suddenly tensed. "That night, down by the swimmin’ hole, when you thought you saw somethin’ in the bushes ... remember?" "I remember. Looky here, who’d want ’em—an’ why?" "Shannon!"
A provocative audacity was in the tilted smile she flashed at him. "Well?" "Well, what?" "Breeze on, Steve. You're doin' fine. Next scene." "That's all." "Say, do I look like I was born yesterday? See any green in my eye, Cactus Center?" He grinned. "You're sure wise, compadre. But the rest is mostly suspicions." "I'm listening," she nodded.
It was impossible to disentangle one's activity from its debasing contacts. A close-meshed net of crime and corruption lay upon the whole country. An immense and weary discouragement sealed his lips for a time. "You are a just man," urged the emissary of Hernandez. "Look at those people who made my compadre a general and have turned us all into soldiers.
The boys are just my friends." "Oh, just friends! And no beaux. My, my! Not a single sweetheart in all this wide open country. Shall I go rope you one and bring him in, compadre?" "No!" she exploded. "I don't want any. I'm not old enough yet." Her dancing eyes belied the words. "Now I wouldn't have guessed it. You look to me most ready to be picked."
Presently I saw some writing on the adobe wall. The look of it showed the hand of youth, its bold carelessness, a boy. Some of it I set down soon afterwards, and it ran in this fashion: "The most good old compadre! But I'd like another real." Again: "One media for a banderilla, two reals for the bull-fight, five centavos for the sweet oranges, and nothing for dulces.
How I'd love to do some of those things. I can shoot and swim and sail my boat, but I've never been in a gymnasium or done any of those interesting things. I wish Compadre could hear all about it.
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