win the bet

win the bet _do_ come; _won’t_ ye come?” "What do you mean by that jargon?" he demanded, in angry tones.,The currants in Aunt Grenertsen’s garden were nothing to speak of, either. Awfully sour, small pinheads! The raspberries were small, too, but at any rate, they were sweet.,Mona, though still angered, is yet somewhat softened by this speech, as might any woman. Her color fades again, and heavy tears, rising rapidly, quench the fire that only a moment since made her large eyes dark and passionate.,"What'll I tell her, if I do?" demanded Patricia indignantly. "I haven't any idea what you want to telegraph?","What's Billy been doin' now?" asked Wilson anxiously.，“They’ve stolen her, all right. I don’t know why, but I know who,—it’s the Ha’nt people!” Billy panted, coming out of the Lodge.，So, at least, the wise report—，“Just to think I’ve got to heat up more water and fill this tank again for a good-for-nothing urchin like you! Begorra! It’s worth it though to see you get a good ducking!”When Edith planned to turn her pupils’ recital into a great Spring Festival, for the benefit of the sufferers, all the town applauded, and asked how it could help.

"Are you one of the others?",Tonight as Hinter rode through the pine-scented gloom the light-house keeper sat in his big chair beside the window that looked upon the lake. Spent from a trying fit of coughing, his nerves crying for the rest which was denied him, the sick man had gazed across to where the shuttle of sunset was weaving its fabric of changing colors upon sky and water. But he had not seen those glad lights; had not heard the cries of the haven-seeking gulls or the soft plaintive notes of the night birds from the Point forest. The lights had flashed and departed unseen, the wild calls had been voiced and sunk to silence unheard, because a tenderer light, which had belonged to this, his own hour, had vanished; a sweeter song than even night birds could voice had been stilled—the light in his Erie's eyes and the low notes from her glad heart.,“I—I think a bunch of Greasers are goin’ to raid the dam!”,Or cattle faintly lowing:,At first the light of the lamp—so unlike the pale transparent purity of the moonbeams—puzzles her sight; she advances a few steps unconsciously, treading lightly, as she has done all along, lest she shall wake some member of the household, and then, passing her hand over her eyes, looks leisurely up. The fire is nearly out. She turns her head to the right, and then—then—she utters a faint scream, and grasps the back of a chair to steady herself.,"Set down there an' keep still as a mouse till I get back," he admonished. "I won't be long.",Then some one lifted Johnny Blossom up. He was warm and red, but beaming. “Come soon again, everybody!” he called out.,Mr. Johnston frowned darkly. "Walter Watland—what?" he repeated.,“It is awfully hard to be among the best, Uncle Isaac,” with an apologetic smile.,“Sure do,” was the answer. “’Specially safe as I elect myself a c’mittee o’ one to stick here on guard.”,Patricia lifted her brows, perplexed and inquiring, and then dropped them with a shrug that seemed to indicate that the matter no longer interested her.,"Oh, madam," said Mr Lawrence, with a little blush in his face, "I did not intend my poor representation of the fascinations of a voyage to the West Indies for the ear of so experienced a sailor, and so keen an observer as Captain Acton.".