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Then I delivered my philippic as follows: 'If you spangled-eyed dubs think you are going to shake me down for any more change you had better drop in your penny and get next to yourselves. Nix, not. I've already coughed up more than the rest of the entire population, and you are not going to lance me for any more just because I've got a bundle.
If you can boss dubs, and get anything out of them, why I know where you can get at least nine of them, and they're all to be trusted absolutely." "Tod could help a lot, and I suppose you are one of the dubs, but where are the rest?" "Phil Fulton and his Boy Scouts " "My nephew, you mean, from Chester? I suppose I could get him, but just what are these Boy Scouts?"
He was scarcely surprised, for Pruyn had spoken more than once of showing him some civilities when they reached New York, and putting him up at one or two convenient dubs. "My dear sir," he cried, going forward with outstretched hand; but the words died on his lips as Derek pushed his way in brusquely, without greeting.
In a host of similar resolutions, Legislative caucuses, political conventions, dubs, societies, prominent individuals not in the political machine, all ringingly declared for Lincoln, the one proper candidate of the "Union party"-as the movement was labeled in a last and relatively successful attempt to break party lines.
This time, however, neither of them proved "dubs." Together they "progressed" to the next higher table. Cousin Jim assured her it was all due to her skill. She almost thought that, perhaps, she was skillful at "hearts," and for the first time she liked the silly game. Eventually came time for the prizes and then dancing. Dancing Missy liked tremendously. Raymond claimed her for the first waltz.
This falling for anybody's say-so about medical jealousy and competition is simply part and parcel of your usual willingness to think the worst you possibly can of us poor dubs in Gopher Prairie. Trouble with women like you is, you always want to ARGUE. Can't take things the way they are. Got to argue. Well, I'm not going to argue about this in any way, shape, manner, or form.
A Frenchman dubs it a city of chalets, and recommends the architects of Paris to seek there the most charming models for kiosks, verandas, turrets, cupolas, etc. The humblest suburban and rural abodes he pronounces full of the picturesque. They appear to be much in the Swiss style, so natural to an alpine region.
It is only fair to state that if Major Calvert had left his trainer to his own judgment his stable would have made a better showing than it had. But the major's disposition and unlimited time caused him more often than not to follow the racing paraphrase: "Dubs butt in where trainers fear to tread."
"D'ye see, the boss 'd been dippy enough to write the combination on a piece o' paper when Kenniston ducked out f'r fear he'd be forgettin' it, maybe, and these dubs o' the world nipped the paper." "See here, Dorgan; was that why you followed me to town this afternoon?" I shot at him. "Ye've guessed it." "And it was for the same reason that you sneaked in here while I was asleep?"
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