squeaky

The field mouse, now that it was freed from its enemy, stopped short; and coming slowly up to the Woodman it said, in a squeaky little voice:

The Frenchman looked at the linen, considered for a moment, then looked inquiringly at Pierre and, as if Pierre's look had told him something, suddenly blushed and shouted in a squeaky voice:

"I didn't say felons!" the Chancellor explained.) "You may be sure that I always sympa--"("'Ear, 'ear!" shouted the crowd, so loudly as quite to drown the orator's thin squeaky voice) "--that I always sympa--" he repeated.("Don't simper quite so much!" said the man under the window.

It was at this touching moment that the pantaloon hobbled in, also dressed as we had seen him last, and carrying, unfortunately, a trayful of sausages, which at once increased the general gloom, for he announced, in his squeaky voice, that they were the very sausages that had lately been the dog.

When I lived in the same room with you I was much annoyed by your squeaky horn.

"I'll take it!" sighed Miss Leeson, sinking down upon the squeaky iron bed.

And it never goes high up, or sharp, or squeaky, or scratchy, like some women's voices when they're mad, or fresh, or excited, till they remind me of a bum phonograph record.

Squeak, squeak, squeak, without a gesture, without a stir--the horrible squeaky burlesque of professional jealousy--this man of a sinister alliterative nickname, this executioner of revolutionary verdicts, the terrifying N.N.

When he tried he sputtered and stammered and his voice sounded strange and squeaky to him.

"This," said the Gump, in a squeaky voice not at all proportioned to the size of its great body, "is the most novel experience I ever heard of.

"Sir," said Villefort, in the squeaky tone assumed by magistrates in their oratorical periods, and of which they cannot, or will not, divest themselves in society, "sir, the signal service which you yesterday rendered to my wife and son has made it a duty for me to offer you my thanks.

Rowelled by the squeaky music to recollection of old-world ports and places, Borckman lay on his face on the hot planking, beat a tattoo with his naked toes, and gutturally muttered an unending monologue of curses.