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"Well, them undertaker folk are driving a pretty trade in London. Well-nigh every lady we saw in a carriage had hired one o' them plumes for the day, and had it niddle noddling on her head. It were the Queen's Drawing-room, they said, and the carriages went bowling along towards her house, some wi' dressed-up gentlemen like circus folk in 'em, and rucks* o' ladies in others.
"On account of the Rucks?" I asked. "Pray, why don't they go themselves? I have given them some excellent addresses written down the very hours of the trains. They were going to Appenzell; I thought it was arranged." "They talk of Chamouni now," I said; "but they are very helpless and undecided." "I will give them some Chamouni addresses. Mrs.
Church, calmly; "to that of Mrs. Ruck and Miss Ruck of Miss Ruck especially." "Ah, the poor Rucks haven't any tone at all," I said "Don't take them more seriously than they take themselves." "Tell me this," my companion rejoined, "are they fair examples?" "Examples of what?" "Of our American tendencies." "'Tendencies' is a big word, dear lady; tendencies are difficult to calculate.
There's nane o' them left, but there's the rucks they're no soomin' yet! I want to gang to the Lord, but I maunna weet Willie Mackay's claes." "It's a sair peety," said Janet, "'at the men fowk disna learn to weyve stockin's, or dee something or ither wi' their han's. Mony's the time my stockin' 's been maist as guid's a cloaset to me, though I cudna jist gang intil't. But what maitters 't!
If work's sure and steady theer, labour's paid at starvation prices; while here we'n rucks o' money coming in one quarter, and ne'er a farthing th' next. For sure, th' world is in a confusion that passes me or any other man to understand; it needs fettling, and who's to fettle it, if it's as yon folks say, and there's nought but what we see? Mr.
One or two of 'em struck wi' their sticks, and coachmen laughed, and some officers as stood nigh put their spy-glasses in their eye, and left 'em sticking there like mountebanks. One o' th' police struck me. 'Whatten business have you to do that? said I. *Rucks; a great quantity.
He was very much after the fashion of that clean and pleasant-looking person one sees in the advertisements in American magazines, that agreeable person who smiles and says, "Good, it's the Fizgig Brand," or "Yes, it's a Wilkins, and that's the Best," or "My shirt-front never rucks; it's a Chesson." But now he was saying, still with the same firm smile, "Good. It's English."
She speaks as if the world were made for Madame Church. I intimated to her that if she objected to the company there was a very simple remedy; and at present elle fait ses paquets." "She really asked you to get the Rucks out of the house?" "She asked me to tell them that their rooms had been let, three months ago, to another family. She has an APLOMB!" Mrs.
And you shouldn't abuse those good Rucks, who have been very kind to your daughter. They have invited her to go and stay with them in Thirty-Seventh Street." "Aurora has told me. It might be very serious." "It might be very droll," I said. "To me," declared Mrs. Church, "it is simply terrible. I think we shall have to leave the Pension Beaurepas. I shall go back to Madame Chamousset."
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