"Going!" exclaimed the first woman, "he's gone! Done gone!"
PART III
O winds of the sea, that whisper,
Will you not whisper to me
What the marvellous strange visions
Of a little child may be?
O wild rose, stirred and shaken,
By the wind that ripples the stream,
Why are the children dreaming,
And what are the dreams they dream?
—Beverly's Attitudes and Platitudes: A Drama.
"Them that slip out'n dreams an' stay with us!" said Mr. Sanders to himself, as they went along. "Be jiggered ef that ain't a new one on me! I'll take it home an' chew on it when I'm lonesome."
Adelaide had just cause of complaint, she thought. "Now we can't have any fumerl, with strange folks tip-toeing about the place, and carriages at the door, with horses snorting and pawing the ground."
"It's jest as well," remarked Mr. Sanders. "All that sort of thing will come along lot's quicker than we want it to."
"They come'd twice to our house—two times!" said Adelaide, in the tone of one who has a proprietary interest in such matters. "They come'd and come'd," she went on, with the air of imparting important secret information, "and they peeped in all the rooms, and in the closets, and behind the doors, and pulled out all the booro draws; yes, and some of 'em looked in the safe where mother keeps her vittles!"