"Why, no, sonny; how should I have that till I've been in to sell
my eggs?" and she held up the basket in token of good faith.
"Well, well," growled the other, "see to it that she doesn't forget
to pay it when she comes back." And the train went on.
Time to wait! The deckhand on the ferry-boat lifts his hat and bids
you God speed, as you pass. The train waits for the conductor to
hear the station-master's account of that last baby and his assurance
that the mother is doing well. The laborer goes on strike when his
right is questioned to stop work to take his glass of beer between
meals; the telegraph messenger, meeting the man for whom he has a
message, goes back home with him "to hear the news." It would not
be proper to break it in the street. I remember once coming down the
chain of lakes in the Jutland peninsula on a steamer that stopped
at an out-of-the-way landing where no passengers were in waiting.
One, a woman, was made out, though, hastening down a path that
lost itself in the woods a long way off. The captain waited. As
she stepped aboard another woman appeared in the dim distance,
running, too.
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