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The Wishbone foreman declared profanely that hay was going to be worth a dollar a pound to them, before spring. They were all sorry for Manley, and told him he was "sure playing tough luck," but they couldn't sell any hay, that was certain. "But we must manage somehow to fix the place so we can live on it this winter," Val would insist, when he told her how every move seemed blocked.
"If only I had seen them in time to plan one for Uncle Tim!" sighed mischievous Grace Tilton. "I owe him a philopena, and that would have been a splendid way to pay it." "But it takes only a few minutes to make one," answered Julia. "I will show you how. Cousin Minnie cut the pattern for the trousers." "I haven't the wishbone, though," returned Grace.
I thought of the four men that had stood by me most in my time; now one was a miser and smuggler, and got himself hung; and one was a thief, and died of a split wishbone, on what he called "a throne;" and one was a fighter and gambler and poet, and he had a heavy fist, and he turned remorseful into a Burmese monk; and one was Stevey Todd.
Ragged he was, with a split shirt front open to the wishbone; but the November breeze, carrying fine snowflakes, brought him only a grateful coolness. Wherefore he sat, gorged, and gazed upon the world with after-dinner contempt. The meal had been an unexpected one.
"I think I have had turkey enough for to-day," replied Donald, with a shudder, "and if it is just the same, I would rather have a nice thick piece of pumpkin pie." So the girl placed a large piece of pie before him; and while he was eating with the keen appetite given him by the crisp air of Wishbone Valley, he heard a great clattering of hoofs coming down the road.
"But it was my wishbone," persisted the gobbler, "and I think I ought to know something about it." "You have rights, I suppose, and your argument is not without force," replied Donald, with calm dignity.
K. Taylor French. Quite some wishbone in front and more or less spinal column aft Mrs. K. Taylor is exposin' as she brushes past us up the strip of red carpet. So you could hardly blame the old girl for bein' jarred. "Young man," says she, turnin' on me severe, "what's going on here to-night?" "Dinner dance, that's all," says I. "You mean they're having a lot of company in?" says she. I nods.
After all, she said it very quietly. "The devil it was!" Kent had been prepared for something of the sort; but, nevertheless, he started when he heard his own outfit mentioned. "Yes. It was a Wishbone cow." Her voice was flat and monotonous. "He had stolen her calf.
Still, you have lost your principle, the backbone of the soul, and the fungus-like growth of conscience is such a clumsy imitation like a paper rose stuck in the ground. Mr. Constantine's type your type is flourishing and multiplying among us, I fear, and such are the wishbone, or sickly conscience, and not the backbone, or sterling principle, of the nation.
Well, I got into the fool things, and I felt as though I was naked from ankle to wishbone. I couldn't get used to the outfit. I am naturally a modest man. Besides, my architecture was never intended for bare-leg effects. I have no dimples in my knees. So I began an immediate campaign for transfer back to the Surreys.
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