She fell against the wall to avoid him, and appeared
surprised. He scrambled up. Then he clutched his hair, and waddled
down the corridor, shrieking, and the purple dress began to gobble
with her laughter.
"Why," she says, in a mellow voice--"Ho! ho! haw! haw! Why does the
distinguished senor cast the Minister of Military and Internal
Peace thus upon his digesting, immediately his too great meal
thereafter?"
"Hivins!" says Flannagan.
"Now he will say the internal peace is disturbed, meaning his
digestion, and bring the military, to the end that the distinguished
senors shall be placed in the dungeons of La Libertad, which," she
says kindly, "beyond expectation are wet, and the senors will
probably decay. He is my husband--Ho, ho! haw, haw!" she says. "He is
a pig"
Flannagan was speechless for a moment. The tin-type man pointed his
camera at the purple dress, and was going to take a misanthropic
photograph, and David went and stood on his head before her, so that
she laughed harder: "Ho! ho! haw! haw!" and spread out her hands,
which had two rings to a finger, and the mixed stones of her necklace
clicked together with her laughter.
"Put up yer camery, typist" says Flannagan, getting hold of his
diplomacy.
Pages:
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188