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Updated: June 1, 2025


But Dolores was not moved from her patronizing self-possession. She could see from the faces of the onlookers that every one was wondering how she would take those allusions to herself and her good-natured husband; and she was not going to let the Fishmarket have a day's fun at her expense. "Close your mouth, deary, before you slip and fall into it! Don't be bitter!

"Deary me," said mother, as he set a chair for her very polite, but she would not sit upon it; "Saturday morning I was a wife, sir; and Saturday night I was a widow, and my children fatherless. My husband's name was John Ridd, sir, as everybody knows; and there was not a finer or better man in Somerset or Devon.

Do you think he would?" "No!" cried Ruth, "I know he wouldn't! Oh, Miss Ainslie, you break my heart!" "Ruth," said Miss Ainslie, gently; "Ruth, dear, don't cry! I won't talk about it any more, deary, I promise you, but I wanted to know so much!" Ruth kissed her and went away, unable to bear more just then. She brought her chair into the hall, to be near her if she were needed.

Deary me, Mary, but they must make you feel old." "We were just going to have some tea," said Esther; "wouldn't you like a cup, uncle?" "I daresay your uncle would rather have a glass of beer," said Mrs. Mesurier. "Ay, you're right there, Mary," answered the old man, "right there. A glass of beer is good enough for Samuel Clegg.

'Ye've smoked as many as five since ye come in at midnight, the woman goes on, as she chronically complains. 'Poor me, poor me, my head is so bad. Them two come in after ye. Ah, poor me, the business is slack, is slack! Few Chinamen about the Docks, and fewer Lascars, and no ships coming in, these say! Here's another ready for ye, deary.

"Ah, deary! what a precious pretty you be," said the old woman, hugging her. "I'm so glad to see you again after your being away so long. And your Uncle's that proud of you, too! He often reads the reports the school teacher sends him I see him doing that in the evening. He keeps the reports in his cash-box, just as though they was as precious as his stocks and bonds. Yes-indeedy!"

Look'ee, deary; give me three-and- sixpence, and don't you be afeard for me. I'll get back to London then, and trouble no one. I'm in a business. Ah, me! It's slack, it's slack, and times is very bad! but I can make a shift to live by it. 'Do you eat opium? 'Smokes it, she replies with difficulty, still racked by her cough. 'Give me three-and-sixpence, and I'll lay it out well, and get back.

"And my own pie is in the oven baking. Aren't we having a good time, Aunty Stevens?" "Yes, we are," said Aunty Stevens, hugging her. "And now I am going to tell you. I'm afraid, deary, that I have been a very selfish woman. When my husband died, I felt as though I had nothing to live for but Dorothy, and when she too went away, I felt that there was no use in living.

It all came back to her as freshly as though she had sung it only last week; and her sweet young voice rang out bold and clear "Star of Peace to wanderers weary, Bright the beams that smile on me; Cheer the pilot's vision dreary, Far, far at sea." She paused there, not feeling quite sure of the next verse; but Coomber said quickly "Go on, deary, go on; don't you know the next bit?"

"I shall never cut up such another bird as that, the longest day that I have to live," he said; and then he took out his large red silk handkerchief and wiped the perspiration from his brow. "Deary me, M.; don't think of that now," said the wife. "What's the use?" said Snengkeld. "Care killed a cat." "And perhaps you may," said John Kenneby, trying to comfort him; "who knows?"

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