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Very well then, oo put one foot here, and one foot here, so oo doosn't tread on the Fairy." This was all very well as an explanation, but it didn't convince me. "Why shouldn't I put one foot on the Fairy?" I asked. "I don't know why," the little fellow said in a thoughtful tone. "But I know oo wouldn't. Nobody never walked on the top of a Fairy.
I was amused at the idea of its being a 'little odd job' to find the Royal Baby. "But how did you come to lose it?" I asked. "We put it in a flower," Sylvie, who had just joined us, explained with her eyes full of tears. "Only we ca'n't remember which!" "She says us put it in a flower," Bruno interrupted, "'cause she doosn't want I to get punished. But it were really me what put it there.
When he saw who it was clinging to the bar counter, Jim first stared and then burst into a hoarse roar of laughter. 'Coom here! coom here! he shouted to the party in the back parlour. 'Here's a rum start! I do declare this beats cock-fighting! this do. Damn my eyes iv it doosn't! Look at that yoong limb.
The old Scotchman, Macdonald, came out after the first lecture somewhat crestfallen. 'Not the sort of stooff I'd expected! he said, with a shade of perplexity on the rugged face. 'He doosn't talk eneuf in the aabstract for me.
I'm most darned glad as you've brought A ; you might have left that other critter to home, though, jest as well we doosn't want him blowin' out his little hide here; lazin' about, and doin' nothin' day nor night but eat and grumble; and drink, and drink, as if he'd got a meal-sack in his little guts.
Rossitur's, down to Queechy." "Mr. Rossitur's!" said Mrs. Evelyn. "Does he send them here?" "He doos not," said Philetus "he doosn't keep to hum for a long spell." "Who does send them, then?" said Constance. "Who doos? It's Miss Fliddy Ringgan." "Mamma!" exclaimed Constance, looking up. "What does she have to do with it?" said Mrs. Evelyn.
Old Bob! so he doosn't like them, eh?" At that moment his eye caught something, and he said, in an altered voice, "Here's Bob's boat coming now, Minister, and the lady and gentleman in her." "They must have come much more rapidly than I did," said the minister, "and yet my boy rows well enough. Compose yourself, January! this is a heavy blow for you, my good friend. Compose yourself!
The old Scotchman, Macdonald, came out after the first lecture somewhat crestfallen. 'Not the sort of stooff I'd expected! he said, with a shade of perplexity on the rugged face. 'He doosn't talk eneuf in the aabstract for me.
"Why do you think I'm like the moon, Bruno?" I asked. "Oor face is large and round like the moon," Bruno answered, looking at me thoughtfully. "It doosn't shine quite so bright but it's more cleaner." I couldn't help smiling at this. "You know I sometimes wash my face, Bruno. The moon never does that."
Yo're afraid o' mae, Ally, because yo've 'eard I haven't always been as sober as I might bae; but yo're nat 'aalf as afraid o' mae, droonk or sober, as yo' are of yore awn faather. Yo' dawn't think I s'all bae 'aalf as 'ard an' crooil to yo' as yore faather is. She doosn't, Mr. Cartaret, an' thot's Gawd's truth." "I protest," said the Vicar. "Yo' stond baack, sir. It's for 'er t' saay."
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