. Focus. medico con la faccia liscia e poppyeyes, e specifiche sulla cima della sua testa, sembrava lento di compre-hension. Hey V ha chiesto. Fate punti V ho ripetuto con insistenza. Oh, maglie ! Chi vuole punti presi V ME. Stato in una lotta, scommetto. Permette di vedere la ferita, ha detto, com-ing intorno alla parte anteriore del contatore e allo stesso timepulling suo specs giù per i suoi occhi. Egli ha parlato enigmi per me. Mi è stato vago quanto a che cosa un gashwas, e ho potuto vedere nessun collegamento terrestre tra un fightand mio sacco di maglie. Non vi era nulla da fare ma a handhim il sacchetto. Egli lo prese e senza guardare si pose

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. Focus. doctor with the smooth face and poppyeyes, and specs on top of his head, seemed slow of compre-hension. Hey V he asked. Do you take stitches V I repeated emphatically. Oh, stitches ! Who wants stitches taken V I do. Been in a fight, I bet. Lets see the gash, said he, com-ing around in front of the counter, and at the same timepulling his specs down to his eyes. He spoke riddles to me. I was hazy as to what a gashwas, and I could see no earthly connection between a fightand my bag of stitches. There was nothing to do but to handhim the bag. He took it and without looking at it he laid it on thecounter and said, Quick, boy, show me your gash. I dont know what you mean by my gash, sir, but theresmy bag of stitches. For the first time he saw the bag, and with a puzzled ex-pression he took a peep into it. Then he broke out into abig laugh and said, The jokes on both of us. It dawned upon me then that Nat had played a trickon me. After that my nickname in the shop was Stitches. Alttmxa, 08.. 234 THE FOCUS iBlt^^tn are tt)e Qieek JACQUELINE BYKD, more familiarlyknown as Jack, sat in the vine-coveredsummer house swinging her feet, and mut-tering angrily to herself. The clouds onher brow looked threatening, and her flash-ing brown eyes betokened a coming storm.The stray auburn locks flying in the breeze tended to inten-sify the effect of an angry, insulted goddess—if there everexisted goddesses of this red-haired, freckle-faced, twinklingbrown-eyed type. Just then this much-abused individual was angrily tearingan unoffending little lace handkerchief, and saying things toherself in a way that a fathers only daughter ^hadnt orter.*The horrid old thing, she was muttering, I dont care ifhe is an English lord and has a string of titles fifty mileslong. I just bet he has a prissy little mustache, his eyessquint, he carries a monocle and walks with a cane, andlooks condescendingly superior. Ugh! Never would I marrysuch a creature—not even if his name were Dick, instead

Parole chiave associate all'immagine

• bookcentury1900
• bookdecade1910
• booksubjectl
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