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Updated: June 5, 2025
When, why is it? that she is taking him to the grave of his.... And, good heavens! the person the child calls 'Mummy' is kneeling beside it, her head bent, apparently not hearing their approach. 'Oh, Mummy look, cries the child, 'look what bootiful flowers me's gottened, him wouldn't let me get them meself.
"Ike's right. Slaney an' me's gettin' out, too. Devil's Hill's a cursed blank." "Me, too," broke in the Kid. "But say, wot about poolin' our cents for whisky?" he went on, his young mind still intent upon the contemplated orgie. It was Buck who helped the wavering men to their decision. He understood them. He understood their needs. The ethics of the proposition did not trouble him.
'Well, no offence, Muster Mannering, but Perley and me's going over to my sister's at Wood End to-night, afore the milingtary come. The black-browed elderly woman spoke respectfully but firmly. 'What silly nonsense have you got into your heads? shouted the Squire.
I know where he goes Sunday afternoons and why he goes, too. Mr. Ellery and me's good friends. We understand each other." "Look here, Kyan Pepper! What are you talkin' about?" "Nothin', nothin'. Good day." "Stop! Stand still! Come in the house here. I want you to." "No, no, Keziah. Really, I'd love to, but I can't stop." "Come in, I tell you."
Ethel played and sang and danced about her, quite oblivious of the heat, till, tired out, she threw herself into Ruth's arms. "Sing by-low now," she demanded sleepily; "pay it's night, and you and me's in a yockin'-chair goin' to by-low land." Ruth realized that the child was weary, and drawing her little head to her bosom, threw off the huge sunbonnet and ruffled up the damp, golden locks.
"I was settin' here in a sog like, and didn't hear ye. It's a master-night, and we're goin' to have good weather to-morrow. If yaou want to try it ag'in, ye're welcome. "Sam? Sartin; he's goin'. Him and me's jest like the figger ten: if yaou haul off the one we ain't good for nothin'. If yaou want to see a faithful friend, jest clap yer eyes on Sam Whittlefield.
And he's a good man, too, missus, a long sight better than that curly-topped chap. Him and me's partners, so I ought to know." "To be sure you ought," said Mrs. Peck tolerantly. "And it's to be hoped that Columbine knows it as well."
An autobiographer, too, exposes himself to the charge of egotism, but I must run the risk of that, endeavouring to avoid the scathing criticism of him who wrote: "The egotist . . . . . . . Whose I's and Me's are scattered in his talk, Thick as the pebbles on a gravel walk."
"What time would be most convenient to take my trunk over to Glenside or to Hagar's Corners?" "I'm not going to either place to-morrow," was the composed answer. "Don't know exactly when I shall be going over again, either. Ethan and me's got our hands full right here with the late-season cultivating." "But I have to get to the station," protested Betty.
Your anger and your outrage, Owen, overcame the timid creature. Speak kindly to her, she is recovering. Thank God, she is recovering." "Susy, avourneen," said the father, "rouse yourself, ma colleen; rouse yourself, an' don't thrimble that way. The sorra one o' me's angry wid you, at all at all." "Oh, bring me home," said the poor girl. "Father, dear, have no bad opinion of me.
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