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Updated: June 26, 2025
"You're drunk or dreaming," said I. "If you bother him, he'll just plain have you killed. That's a little way of his." "And if he does a friend of mine will just go to a certain place and get certain papers and give 'em to a certain lawyer and then where's old H.H.? And he knows it, damn well. And he's going to be good to Artie and give him what he wants. We'll get along fine.
"Presumption, I call it. I don't know how to read and write least I don't know how to spell. Do you know how to spell, Collie?" to the young man, whose name was Colin. "Do you, Genevieve? Do you, Artie?" "You can't betray me into vulgar boasting," said Collie. "Who does in these days? Nobody but clerks at Peter Robinson's." "Lord Coombe does but that's his tiresome superior way," said Feather.
A "jag," be it known, means primarily a load, secondarily a "load," or "package," of alcohol. Collectors of slang will find many priceless gems in two recent books which I commend to their notice: Chimmie Fadden, by Mr. E.W. Townsend, and Artie, by Mr. George Ade.
Adelaide, almost in tears over her brother's catastrophe, was thrilled with admiration of his silent, courageous bearing. "What are you going to do, Artie?" This incautious question drew his inward ferment boiling to the surface. "He has me down and I've got to take his medicine," said the young man, teeth together and eyes dark with fury. This she did not admire.
"Didn't you have your hat with you to bail with?" somebody asked Artie. "All I had was my copy of Initiation Drill," he said. "Why didn't you drill a hole in the boat then," I said. "What for?", Pee-wee shouted. "So the water could get out as fast as it came in". "What are you talking about? You're crazy!" he yelled.
I had been corralin' a heap o' city langwidge since I had been cooped up with Locals an' Hammy, but my heart failed me. I knew I was still some shy on society manners; but I also knew 'at the' was a heap o' bluffin' goin' on, so I stuck up my bet an' called. "Artie," I sez, holdin' out my hand, "you 're the first lord my eyes has ever feasted on; but I like you you're game.
Artie might have staggered up against the window to get air, but I didn't see how he could fall out, and if he was able to climb out then why didn't he come up where the rest of us were? I couldn't make anything out of it; all I knew was he was gone. I knew he must have been drowned and his body been carried up by the tide, which was running up strong now.
Winifred's." "An' I don't think much of your aunt. We're nearly out of cartridges, too Artie, dear." Whereupon Stalky rose up to grapple with him, but McTurk sat on Stalky's head, calling him a "pure-minded boy" till peace was declared.
"Everything'll be all right when you come back, Artie," she assured him. As they passed the outbuilding where the garden tools were kept they both glanced in. There stood the tools their father had always used in pottering about the garden, above them his old slouch and old straw hats. Arthur's lip quivered; Adelaide caught her breath in a sob.
Look into his face an' you'll see it. Fine? The boy hasn't his like in the city or the land. I'll back him for any sum I'll stand to it that he'll be archbishop some day." "Which I'll never be," said Arthur with a grin. "Every man in his place, Artie. I've brought you yours, if you want to take it. How would politics in New York suit you?" "I'm ripe for anything with fun in it."
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