human
I had m' suspicions, resumed Miss Trimble,
gpt
she indicated the bearded plotter, who blinked deprecatingly through his spectacles,
human
She turned to Mr. Crocker.
gpt
Say you! Take off th't mask. Let's have a l'k at you!
human
Goosh! exclaimed Miss Trimble in strong distaste.
gpt
Say, 've you got some kind of a plague, or wh't is it? Y'look like a coloured comic supplement! She confronted the shrinking Mr. Crocker and ran a bony finger over his cheek.
human
Make-up! she said, eyeing the stains disgustedly.
gpt
Grease paint! Goosh!
human
Skinner!
gpt
So 't is, if y' do a bit 'f excavating. She turned on the bearded one.
human
She wrenched at the unhappy man's beard. It came off in her hands, leaving a square chin behind it.
gpt
If this ain't a wig, y'll have a headache t'morrow, observed Miss Trimble, weaving her fingers into his luxuriant head-covering and pulling.
human
Wish y' luck! Ah! 'twas a wig. Gimme those spect'cles. She surveyed the results of her handiwork grimly.
gpt
Say, Clarence, she remarked,
human
It is Mitchell, said Mrs. Pett.
gpt
My husband's physical instructor.
human
Say, this is gett'n interesting! This is where y' 'xplain, y'ng man, how 'twas you happened to be down in this room when th't crook who's just gone was monkeyin' with the safe. L'ks t' me as if you were in with these two.