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Then the other hand'll reach over and get hold of the paper he's cal'latin' to buy, get a good clove hitch onto it, and then for a minute he'll stand there lookin' first at the cent and then at the paper and rubbin' the money between his finger and thumb he's figgerin' to have a little of the copper smell left on his hand even if he has to let go of the coin, you see and " Mary laughed.
The Collie Park's henmost man he was a little berfit craturie wi' nicker-buckers an' a straw hat was in, an' the captain gae him an awfu' crack below the knee wi' the ba'. "How's that?" he yowled at Sandy. "Man, I believe that's fell sair," says Sandy, rubbin' the swalled side o' his heid. A' the loons startit to the lauchin', an' the captain roars again, "Ay, but how is't?"
"Never drink at bargain makin'; an' never pay money in a public-house if you can help it; if you must do it, go into an inn, or a house that you know to be dacent. "Never stay out late in a fair or market; don't make a poor mouth; on the other hand, don't boast of your wealth; keep no low company; don't be rubbin' yourself against your betthers, but keep wid your aquils.
"And he that'll be foosterin' everywhere under your feet other whiles, he's that fond of company," said Ody's aunt, who hobbled out of doors for the first time to assist in the search. "Belike he's seen you rubbin' up your brogues, and be raison of that he's took off wid himself. Bedad, now the big ould head of him is as full of desate as it can hould."
"Farmer Hartley's gran'f'ther was the last miller," replied Bubble Chirk. "My father used to say he could just remember him, standin' at the mill-door, all white with flour, an' rubbin' his hands and laughin', jes' the way Farmer does. He was a good miller, father said, an' made the mill pay well.
It sounds like rain." "Rain nothing," says I, rubbin' my eyes open. "Why, the moon's shining and but, it does sound like water drippin'." "Drippin!" says Vee. "It's just pouring down somewhere. But where, Torchy?" "Give it up," says I. "That is, unless it could be that blessed tank " "That's it!" says Vee. "The tank! But but just where is it?"
"Sam was settin' on the side of the bed rubbin' his ankle, and he give a groan and says he: 'Things has come to a fine pass in Kentucky when a sober, God-fearin' man like me has to put his necktie in the top drawer to keep from seein' snakes.
'But whin a poor gintleman an' a poor lady fall out, the poor lady puts all her anger into rubbin' th' zinc off th' wash-boord an' th' poor gintleman aises his be murdhrin' a slag pile with a shovel, an' be th' time night comes ar-round he says to himself: Well, I've got to go home annyhow, an' it's no use I shud be onhappy because I'm misjudged, an' he puts a pound iv candy into his coat pocket an' goes home an' finds her standin' at th' dure with a white apron on an' some new ruching ar-round her neck, he says.
But when he told me for the third time that I rubbed 'em out on purpose to make him trouble, and that I had made a practice of rubbin' 'em out for years and years why, then I had to correct him on the subject, and we had a little dialogue. I spoze Serena Fogg heard it.
"Who do you guess, Mr. Ellins?" says I, grinnin'. "H-m-m-m," says he, rubbin' his chin. "I can't say I'm flattered. Thinks I'm an old crab, does he?" "I expect he does," I admits. "Do you?" demands Old Hickory, whirlin' on me sudden. "I used to," says I, "until I got to know you better." "Oh!" says he. "Well, I suppose the young man has a right to his own opinion.
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