'Look he-ere, you're gettin' too fond 0' me,' she said,
and The Dancing Master owned it was so in language that nearly made
me ill.
and The Dancing Master owned it was so in language that nearly made
me ill.
Kipling - Poems
How?
Explain.
"
"You know what I mean--The Dowd and The Dancing Master. We could hear
every word and we listened shamelessly--'specially the Hawley Boy.
Polly, I quite love that woman! "
"This is interesting. There! Now turn round. What happened? "
"One moment. Ah-h! Blessed relief. I've been looking forward to taking
them off for the last half-hour--which is ominous at my time of life.
But, as I was saying, we listened and heard The Dowd drawl worse
than ever. She drops her final g's like a barmaid or a blue-blooded
Aide-de-Camp.
'Look he-ere, you're gettin' too fond 0' me,' she said,
and The Dancing Master owned it was so in language that nearly made
me ill. The Dowd reflected for a while. Then we heard her say, 'Look
he-ere, Mister Bent, why are you such an awful liar? ' I nearly exploded
while The Dancing Master denied the charge. It seems that he never told
her he was a married man. "
"I said he wouldn't. "
"And she had taken this to heart, on personal grounds, I suppose. She
drawled along for five minutes, reproaching him with his perfidy and
grew quite motherly. 'Now you've got a nice little wife of your own--you
have,' she said. 'She's ten times too good for a fat old man like you,
and, look he-ere, you never told me a word about her, and I've been
thinkin' about it a good deal, and I think you're a liar. ' Wasn't that
delicious? The Dancing Master maundered and raved till the Hawley Boy
suggested that he should burst in and beat him. His voice runs up
into an impassioned squeak when he is afraid. The Dowd must be an
extraordinary woman. She explained that had he been a bachelor she might
not have objected to his devotion; but since he was a married man and
the father of a very nice baby, she considered him a hypocrite, and this
she repeated twice. She wound up her drawl with: 'An I'm tellin' you
this because your wife is angry with me, an' I hate quarrellin' with any
other woman, an' I like your wife.
"You know what I mean--The Dowd and The Dancing Master. We could hear
every word and we listened shamelessly--'specially the Hawley Boy.
Polly, I quite love that woman! "
"This is interesting. There! Now turn round. What happened? "
"One moment. Ah-h! Blessed relief. I've been looking forward to taking
them off for the last half-hour--which is ominous at my time of life.
But, as I was saying, we listened and heard The Dowd drawl worse
than ever. She drops her final g's like a barmaid or a blue-blooded
Aide-de-Camp.
'Look he-ere, you're gettin' too fond 0' me,' she said,
and The Dancing Master owned it was so in language that nearly made
me ill. The Dowd reflected for a while. Then we heard her say, 'Look
he-ere, Mister Bent, why are you such an awful liar? ' I nearly exploded
while The Dancing Master denied the charge. It seems that he never told
her he was a married man. "
"I said he wouldn't. "
"And she had taken this to heart, on personal grounds, I suppose. She
drawled along for five minutes, reproaching him with his perfidy and
grew quite motherly. 'Now you've got a nice little wife of your own--you
have,' she said. 'She's ten times too good for a fat old man like you,
and, look he-ere, you never told me a word about her, and I've been
thinkin' about it a good deal, and I think you're a liar. ' Wasn't that
delicious? The Dancing Master maundered and raved till the Hawley Boy
suggested that he should burst in and beat him. His voice runs up
into an impassioned squeak when he is afraid. The Dowd must be an
extraordinary woman. She explained that had he been a bachelor she might
not have objected to his devotion; but since he was a married man and
the father of a very nice baby, she considered him a hypocrite, and this
she repeated twice. She wound up her drawl with: 'An I'm tellin' you
this because your wife is angry with me, an' I hate quarrellin' with any
other woman, an' I like your wife.
