"Good deal like a quiltin' so fur," remarked Brad Freeman indulgently.
It seemed, then, that Brad had always cherished one dear ambition.
"Now put your hand up an' grip that rope that's hangin' there," commanded Brad.
Brad Freeman an' Jont Marshall agreed to play fust an' second fiddle.
His tone was quite conclusive; and Brad, albeit wondering, said no more.
When a nailset is lacking, the head of a brad, held nearly flat, may be used.
Old Brad shouted, "You got him in de laig, doctah, but he runnin' yit!"
"Three cheers for the Honorable Brad," and gave them wildly.
Brad went to work to keep from catching cold, wondering what she was going to do.
"Brad don't know his strength," Councill was accustomed to say.