United States or Fiji ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
I couldna see wha was at it, but there maun have been somebody, for first the crittur waved to the window and next she kissed her hand to it, and syne she went on a bit, and syne she ran back close to the window and nodded and flung more kisses, and back and forrit she went a curran times as if she could hardly tear hersel' awa'. 'Wha's that you're so chief wi'? I speired when she came by me at last, but she just said, 'I won't tell you, in her dour wy, and she hasna come back yet."
W'y, Sis' Jane Callender done daid an' gone to glory too long 'go fu' to talk erbout." "Then you admit to the court that your name is not Jane Callender?" "Wha's de use o' my 'mittin', don' you know it yo'se'f, suh? Has I got to come hyeah at dis late day an' p'ove my name an' redentify befo' my ol' Miss's own chile? Mas' Bob, I nevah did t'ink you'd ac' dat away.
'And, to be sure, wha's fitter to look after the breaking and the keeping of the poor beasts than mysell, that bought and sold every ane o' them? 'And pray, sir, if it be not too great a freedom, may I beg to know where we are going just now? 'A fule's errand, I fear, answered this communicative personage.
We made our getaway all right," said Dave. "Say, where's Joey?" "Pulled a sneak likely. Wha's it matter? Listen! What's that?" Some one was coming up the stairs. The men in the room moved cautiously to the door. The hall light was switched on. "'Lo, Jerry," Gorilla Dave called softly. He closed the room door and the sound of the voices was shut off instantly.
Wha's 'at?" exploded Breede. "Fumed eggs," said Bean, feeling witty. He affected to laugh at his own jest as he perceived that the mourning mother had entered the room. Breede drew cautiously away from him. Mrs. Breede nodded to him bravely. He mentioned the name of the world's greatest pitcher, with an impulse to take the woman down a bit.
I reckon the 'Paches are going to leave the reservation again." "Do you allow that skunk is aimin' to bushwhack you?" "He's got some such notion. It's a cinch he ain't through with me yet." "Say, Clay, ain't you gettin' homesick for the whinin' of a rawhide? Wha's the matter with us hittin' the dust for good old Tucson? I'd sure like to chase cowtails again." "You can go, Johnnie.
A' wud like to hae it exact for Drumsheugh." "Thae's the eedentical words, an' they're true; there's no a man in Drumtochty disna ken that, except ane." "An' wha's thar, Jamie?" "It's Weelum MacLure himsel. Man, a've often girned that he sud fecht awa for us a', and maybe dee before he kent that he hed githered mair luve than ony man in the Glen.
'I saw Black Geordie the nicht again, stan'in' at a back door, an' Jock Mitchell, upo' Reid Rorie, haudin' him. 'Wha's Jock Mitchell? asked Robert. 'My brither Sandy's ill-faured groom, answered Shargar. 'Whatever mischeef Sandy's up till, Jock comes in i' the heid or tail o' 't. 'I wonner what he's up till noo. 'Faith! nae guid.
"Preachah er no preachah, you hyeah what I say," and he took the possum, and put it on the highest shelf. "Wha's de mattah wid you, Jim; dat's one o' de' 'quiahments o' de chu'ch." The angry man turned to the preacher. "Is it one o' de 'quiahments o' de chu'ch dat you eat hyeah ter-night?" "Hit sholy am usual fu' de shepherd to sup wherevah he stop," said Parker suavely.
"On the Sawbath! Man, d'ye think he's a heathen, then?" Mrs. McNish regarded the man before her with severity. "An 'eathen? Not me! I should consider it an 'eathenish practice to go dirty of a Sunday," said Mr. Wigglesworth triumphantly. "Hoots, man, wha's talkin' about gaein' dirty? Can ye no mak due preparation on the Saturday? What is yere Saturday for?" This was a new view to Mr.
Word Of The Day