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Richling repressed a smile. "Thank you! But I don't care to invest it." "Pay you ten pe' cent. a month." "But we can't spare it," said Richling, smiling toward Mary. "We may need part of it ourselves." "I tell you, 'eally, Mistoo Itchlin, I nevveh baw' money; but it juz 'appen I kin use that juz at the pwesent."
'Doctah Seveeah, says I, 'don't you call me a jackass ag'in! An' 'e din call it me ag'in. No, seh. But 'e din like to 'ush up. Thass the rizz'n 'e was a lil miscutteous to you. Me, I am always polite. As they say, 'A nod is juz as good as a kick f'om a bline hoss. You are fon' of maxim, Mistoo Itchlin? Me, I'm ve'y fon' of them.
Go, hopen yo' do's an' stan juz as you har ub biffo dad crowd and sesso! My God! 'Sieu' Frowenfel', iv you cannod stan' ub by you'sev " She ceased suddenly with a wild look, as if another word would have broken the levees of her eyes, and in that instant Frowenfeld recovered the full stature of a man. "God bless you!" he cried. "I will do it!"
At the same time it seems to me to have faults of construction that ought to come out of it before it goes to a possibly unsympathetic publisher. Yet after was Mme. Alexandre about ?" "Juz' to say tha'z maybe better those fault' are there. If the publisher be not sympathetique we want him to rif-use that manuscrip'." "Yes!" several responded. "Yes! He can't have it!
Yvonne stood at a bench's end to watch one of them dart from bloom to bloom. "Ah, Corinne," she sighed, "if we could all be juz' humming-bird'!" "Chérie," cried her sister, "you are spilling yo' coffee!" Whether for the coffee, for the fact that we can't all be humming-birds, or for some thought not yet spoken, Mlle. Corinne's eyes were all but spilling their tears. As the trio sat down.
You dunno dat lill' 'ouse where de Sister' keep dose orphelin' ba-bee'?-juz big-inning sinse 'bout two week' ago?-round de corner one square mo' down town 'alf square mo' nearer de swamp? Well, I thing 'f you pass yondeh you fine Pastropbon." Through smoke, under falling cinders, and by distracted and fleeing households I went. The moment I turned the second corner I espied the house.
"But" they dried their eyes "there's another thing also bisside'. We are, all three, the authorezz' of a story that we are prettie sure tha'z accept' by the publisher'; an' of co'ze if tha'z accept' and if those publisher' they don' swin'le us, like so oftten we don't need to be orphan' never any mo', and we'll maybe move up-town and juz' keep that proprity here for a souvenir of our in-fancy.
'Twas one of those thing' what pro-juce' that saying that the truth 'tis mo' stranger than figtion. "Mr. Chezter, 'twas a wonderful! And what make it the mo' wonderful, my father he wasn' hunting for that, neither hadn' ever dream' of it. He was biccome very much a wanderer. One day he juz' chance' to be in a village in Alsace, and there he saw some chil'ren, playing in the street.
That old 'ouse we're inhabiting here, tha'z like us, ha, ha! a pritty antique. Tha'z mo' suit' for a relique than to live in, especially for Tantine ha, ha! tha'z auntie, yet tha'z what we call our niece. Aline juz' in plaisanterie! biccause she take' so much mo' care of us than us of her." Mrs. Chester had stopped to look around her.
Parson Jones descanted upon the doctrine he had mentioned, as illustrated in the perplexities of cotton-growing, and concluded that there would always be "a special providence again' cotton untell folks quits a-pressin' of it and haulin' of it on Sundays!" "Je dis," said St.-Ange, in response, "I thing you is juz right. I believe, me, strong-strong in the improvidence, yes.
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