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"Right, first guess," says I. "By the way you're gawpin' at it, though, it might be a young zebra or a baby hippopotamus. But it's just a mere puppy. Airedale." "Oh!" says Vee, gaspier than ever. "An an Airedale?" "Well?" says I. "Wasn't that the kind I've heard you boostin' all along?" "Ye-e-es," says she, draggy, "I I suppose it was.
And now I suppose it'll be a case of your bringin' home a new daughter to help Mother, eh?" "Ye-e-es," says Vincent draggy. "Lucky she's the right kind, then," I suggests. "She's a wonderful girl, Torchy. Wonderful," says he. "Well, I expect you're a judge," says I. "I've never known anyone just like her," he goes on, "and if she'll have me " He wags his head determined.
And you once shot a buffalo that had been pitched with you down a gully all by yourself?" "Yes," said Clarence, crimson with wonder and pleasure. "You know me, then?" "Well, ye-e-es," said the man gravely, parting his mustache with his fingers. "You see, YOU'VE BEEN HERE BEFORE." "Before! Me?" repeated the astounded Clarence. "Yes, before. Last night. You was taller then, and hadn't cut your hair.
"Exactly," said the captain, "and that's why I only take fifty men with me into the desert instead of two hundred. My troop of fifty represent this keen sharp sword, with which blade I can strike and thrust at the Indians again and again, when a larger one would be awkward and slow. Do you see?" "Ye-e-es!" said Bart, hesitating.
"Why, how comfy you are here, aren't you?" says Vee, gazin' around. "Ye-e-es, aren't we?" says Lucy Lee, a bit draggy. If you've ever made one of these flathouse first calls you can fill in the rest for yourself.
If Alfred Barton's secret thought had been expressed in words, it would have been: "Curse the old fool he knows what the old man is, as well as I do!" But he twisted a respectful hypocrisy out of his whisker, and said, "Ye-e-es, that seems only fair. How am I to get at it, though?
Take this: 'Regret very much unable to accept your kind invitation' which might mean anything, from a previous engagement to total paralysis." "Ye-e-es," says Ferdie, hangin' his bamboo stick over his left arm and chewin' the penholder thoughtful, "but Marjorie'll be awfully disappointed. I think she really does want to go." "Ah, squiffle!" says I. "She'll get over it. Whose joint is it, anyway?"
"Didn't you come over as a stoker?" "Ye-e-es," said Franck, "I was engaged as a stoker." "But you didn't do any stoking?" "No, I didn't have the muscle for it." "But what did you do on the ship?" asked Lobkowitz. "I? I sailed on the ocean." "Of course. But you were engaged to work. You must have done something to earn money." "I played sixty-six with the first mate."
Someone must do the family honors dinner, theatre, all that sort of thing. And if I were not tied up by an important committee meeting out at the country club I should be very glad to er " "Ye-e-es?" says I, glancin' at him suspicious. "You've guessed it, Torchy," says he. "I must leave them to you." "Whaddye mean, them?" says I. "I thought we was talking about Ambrose." "Oh, certainly," says Mr.
"Ye-e-es," The Guesser said, slowly and cautiously. "I could. But not by just walking in and doing it. I mean, it would be almost impossible to get aboard a ship in the first place, and without an official position I couldn't do anything anyway." But she didn't look disappointed. Instead, she'd smiled a little. "I get us on the ship," she said. "And you have official position. We do it."
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