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From the day of his coming to live among them, there had been much curiosity in the stores and houses regarding the tall, gaunt, slow-speaking stranger at Pickleville. George Pike had told Birdie Spinks the druggist how Hugh worked all day over books, and how he made drawings for parts of mysterious machines and left them on his desk in the telegraph office.
"Gurra bed, Spinks," said Mr. Rickman severely to the young man. "All right, old man." Mr. Spinks lowered his voice to a discreet whisper. "I say do you want me to help you find your legs?" "Wish you'd fin' any par' of me that is n' legs," said Mr. Rickman. And he went on to explain and to demonstrate to Mr. "Three legs, rampant, on the bend, proper. Amazin', isn't it?" "It is amazin'."
And Spinks was crushed under a sense of fresh disloyalty to Rickman. His defence of Rickman had been made to turn into a pleading for himself. "But Razors is different; he'll be making twice that in no time, you'll see. I shouldn't be afraid to ask any one if I was him." Vainly the honourable youth sought to hide his splendour; Flossie had drawn from him all she needed now to know.
There never was a better hand at that work than Spinks." When Mr Noakes had got thus far, it seemed to have occurred to him that it would be but civil to ask me to sit down; and by degrees he became more communicative than I at first expected.
She was evidently asking herself: "Was he, or was he not, in his vein?" A glance at the object of his adoration decided the question for Mr. Spinks. Rickman was, thank goodness, not in his vein, in which state he was incomprehensible to anybody but Miss Roots. He was in that comparatively commonplace condition which rendered him accessible to Mr. Spinks.
"One day in autumn, some of us were sitting on a rail swinging our legs and chatting. Turner was not there, but little Spinks was. "`I tell you what, said I, referring to a remark made by one of the boys, `I think it is not only contemptible to try to learn one's lessons, but ridiculous. "`I'd rather learn them than get whacked, said one.
Here under this rock stood we above an hour with no sound but the beating of the rain, and the lap of the water running in from the sea. "Yes, all goes well," says I; whereupon he gives a cry like the croak of a frog, and his comrades steal up almost unseen and unheard, save that each as he came whispered his name, as Spinks, Davis, Lee, Best, etc., till their number was all told.
The young gentleman at the extreme bottom or public end of the table was Mr. Spinks. He was almost blatantly visible from the street. At Mr. Spinks's side sat Miss Ada Bishop, the young lady in the fascinating pink blouse; and opposite him, Miss Flossie Walker, in the still more fascinating blue. To the left of Miss Bishop in the very centre of the table was a middle-aged commercial gentleman, Mr.
He said he had come thousands of miles to climb the pyramids, and sit in the shadow of the spinks, and by ginger he was going to do it, and so we started.
When he had gone and when his father had run quickly across the street to his jewelry store, the three men who were left in the bank looked at each other and laughed. Like the loiterers before Birdie Spinks' drug-store, they wanted to belittle him and had an inclination to begin calling him names; but for some reason they could not do it. Something had happened to them.
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