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Prichard get the story?" Granny Marrable had lost sight of this, and was disconcerted. "What why yes where did she get it? Mrs. Prichard, of course! Now, wherever could Mrs. Prichard have got it?..." It called for thought. Dr. Nash's idea was to give facts gradually, and let them work their own way. "Perhaps she knew Mr. Muggeridge herself," said he. "When did he die?"

Muggeridge was the second clerk in Cradell's room. "We're going to put him into Coventry and not speak to him except officially. But to tell you the truth, my hands have been so full here at home, that I haven't thought much about the office. What am I to do about that woman?" "Do about her? How do about her?" "Yes; what am I to do about her? How am I to manage with her?

As soon as dinner was over the ladies with young Mr Roper retired, and Eames and Cradell were left to take their wine over the dining-room fire, or their glass of gin and water, as it might be. "Well, Caudle, old fellow," said one. "Well, Johnny, my boy," said the other. "What's the news at the office?" said Eames. "Muggeridge has been playing the very mischief."

That I could not." The doctor did not interrupt his witness's browsings in the pastures of memory; but when she deserted them, saying she had found nothing to crop, said suddenly: "Didn't tell him about Muggeridge and the other lady, who wasn't Mrs. Muggeridge?" "Now Lard a mercy, doctor, whatever do ye take me for? And all these years you've known me!

"Sure! Mr. Pitt and Mr. Fox." "Tell him anything else about Muggeridge?" "Well, now did I?... No I should say not.... I was trying to think what I would have remembered to tell. For you must bear in mind, doctor, we were but young children when Muggeridge went away, and Axtell came, after that.... No. I could not speak to having said a word about Muggeridge, beyond his bare name.

He took and read to himself. "I see," said he. "The cross stood for Dolly's love. A mere proxy. But he sends the real article. I like the 'homliburst, too. Why did Dolly's lady want to towel Mrs. Spicture?... Oh, I see, it's the name of our house ... h'm h'm h'm!... Now where do we come to Muggeridge?... Oh, here we are! I've got it. Well that's plain enough. Muggeridge.

Fox our horses, and she had just remembered the foreman's name Muggeridge when she saw the model; it makes my head fairly spin to hear. Only I take this for my comfort, that I can see behind her words to know the tale is not of her making, but only Dave, like when she said Dave must have meant Muggeridge in his last letter, and would I find it to show her, only I could not.

"Let us keep to the point. What does 'Muggeridge' mean?" "I was thinking. 'Muggeridge'! But I've got Dave's last letter. I'll get it." And she was off before the Earl could say that to-morrow would do as well. He went on smoking the bitter and bitten end of his cigar, which had gone slowly, owing to the reading.

Her mind became obsessed with the name Tattenhall, which was entirely wrong, and, moreover, stood terribly in the way of Muggeridge, which you may remember? was the name Dave had carried away so clearly from his inspection of the mill on Granny Marrable's chimney-piece.

But I don't think it was very far from four o'clock in the morning when he let himself into his family hotel with that latchkey, the cock's tail of Micyllus, with which good-natured old Mrs. Muggeridge obliged the good-looking captain.