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Updated: June 1, 2025
Deary me, she cried, the fountain of gossip opening more and more, 'to think I should ha known 'em in pinafores, Mr. Patrick an aw!
I hurried all I could, and brought no one back with me, lest you should die of the shock of strangers. 'Am I not dead? 'I cannot understand what you say. Your voice is so low and broken that I cannot hear you. Do you hear me? 'Yes. 'Do you mean Yes? 'Yes. 'What work, deary? 'Did you ask what work? At the paper-mill. 'Where is it? 'Your face is turned up to the sky, and you can't see it.
"But you forget your husband," I insinuated, seeing that that worthy individual began to look rather black at the idea of having a rival in his wife's affections. "O Lord! what's the use of mentioning Barney? He's a poor coot, and will soon get used to my ways; won't you, deary?" The husband didn't make an audible reply, but I understood him to say "Damn," quite distinctly.
Well-a-well, I got so full of music, joy, and friskiness, that all at once I gave a tremendous jump, and flounced right on to the deck of the fine steamer. Had I not been so utterly surprised, I should immediately have flounced back again to my ocean bed "quick shot," as I afterward heard a sailor say. But dear, deary me!
"No, deary," she said sadly, "never any more." She was trying to hide her suffering, and Ruth's heart ached for her in vain. The sound of the train died away in the distance and the firelight faded. "Ruth," she said, in a low voice, "I am going away." "Away, Miss Ainslie? Where?"
The little mother sat at the end of the table, and sewed industriously on the clothes that she had washed and ironed during the day; but when a queer little old clock in the corner struck nine, she bit off her thread and fastened her needle on the yellow cushion, and interrupted the students. "Now, deary, let's put away our work.
I was first on my legs, and ran to the assistance of Mrs Beazeley, who was half smothered with dust and flakes of dry pitch; and old Tom coming to my assistance, we put the old woman on her legs again. "O deary me!" cried the old woman "O deary me! I do believe my hip is out! Lord, Mr Jacob, how you frightened me!"
"Nay, mother, I fear you cannot. The fact is that he is dying, and he has sent me to ask your forgiveness for his conduct to you." "Deary, deary me!" continued old Nanny, seemingly half out of her wits; "in the hospital, so near to his poor mother, and dying. Dear Jemmy!" Then the old woman covered up her face with her apron and was silent. I waited a minute or two, and then I again spoke to her.
"Now, that's just what you do, deary," said red-faced Mrs. Greening, patting her head comfortingly. The women retired to the spare bedroom where Joe had slept the night before, and from there their low voices came to Ollie through the open door.
"Edith, if you don't mind, dear, I think I'll sleep with you." After a moment of deep reflection she added plaintively: "There is so much that I just have to tell you, deary. It it won't keep till daylight." Bright and early in the morning, the tired, harassed night-farers were routed from their rooms by a demand from the management of the hotel that they appear forthwith in the private office.
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