That's my fav'rit," Mr.Harum repeated, "'cept when him an' Polly sings together, an' if that ain't a show--pertic'lerly Polly--I don't want a cent.

No, ma'am, when him an' Polly gits good an' goin' you can't see 'em fer dust." "I should like to hear them," said Miss Clara, laughing, "and I should particularly like to hear your favorite, the one which ends with the Amen--the very _large_ A--men." "Seventeen hands," declared Mr.Harum.

"Must you be goin'?
Wa'al, glad to have seen ye.

Polly's hopin' you'll come an' see her putty soon." "I will," she promised.

"Give her my love, and tell her so, please." They drove away and David sauntered in, went behind the desks, and perched himself up on a stool near the teller's counter as he often did when in the office, and John was not particularly engaged.
"Got you roped in, have they ?" he said, using his hat as a fan.