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“Wotcher want, Nosey?” “Please did the lot hurt Joner when it fell?” queried a sober-minded seeker of truth. As Clarence depicted the terror of the father, lest his arrow miss the mark and kill his son, Moses rose from his chair in breathless suspense. However, the arrow cleft the apple and left the boy unscathed, and the relieved Moses, sinking back in his chair, recovered himself sufficiently to murmur “What an orful chanct fer anyone ter take!”.
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Conrad
“Huh!” grunted Moses, “your ole turkey aint worth an eyestrain.” Billy suspected his mother was waiting for him; he must hurry, he thought. Yet he couldn’t resist showing off a bit. He bent over his wheel, went by the girls with a rush and a “Hello!” made a neat turn, wheeled a figure “8” around a team or two, shouted, “Don’t frame up anything there!” as he passed a second time, and whizzed through the arch in his own high hedge with one wheel in the air. Bess arrived at last. A gorgeous affair was her chariot, the foundation being Mr. Prettyman’s spring wagon. Bess, with some borrowings, Charley’s help, and her own quick invention, had made a very good imitation of a circus wagon. Charley, the Strong Man, held the reins over old Dom Pedro, the horse she loved, that had once been a racer. She had discovered some very real looking, jointed snakes that wriggled and curved in a manner startlingly serpentine; while tremendous boa constrictors, cut from old circus posters, were disposed about the cage in alarmingly lifelike positions. “Ef you could only see how you look, Betty. You must hev some eyebrows somehow.”.
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