If a peeler was to take their names, they'd be shiverin' with fright.
He knows old Peeler, the low miserable scoundrel, who is her father.
He sent a reporter on a secret mission to Peeler's house to find if she were there.
A hundred yards from Peeler's front gate he drew rein and listened.
The editor was busy writing when Mr. Peeler entered the room furtively.
Peeler's eyes were fixed in a tense stare on a small bundle she carried.
There was ample time to head these boys off before they reached old Peeler's house.
Sure there isn't a peeler in the whole counthry, nor a jail neither, for a thousand mile.
A very simple winnowing machine for cleaning the coffee as it comes out of the peeler, is attached.
“Peeler was right,” said he to himself, flinging back the matted hair from his noble brow.