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"And old Wiggett?" persisted Mrs. Tidger. "Smoke his pipe," was the reply. "Why, what's the matter, Polly?" Mrs. Tidger sniffed derisively. "You men are all alike," she snapped. "What do you think Ann wears that pink bodice for?" "I never noticed she 'ad a pink bodice, Polly," said the carpenter. "No? That's what I say. You men never notice anything," said his wife.
That gentleman, who was apparently deep in some knotty problem, was gazing at the floor, and oblivious for the time to his surroundings. "Come along," said Wiggett, with feigned heartiness, slapping him on the back. Mr.
It was a deal after his own heart, and not the least satisfactory part about it was the way he had got the better of Wiggett. He completed his scheme the following day after a short interview with the useful Smith. By the afternoon Wiggett found that his exclusive information was common property, and all Thatcham was marvelling at the fortitude with which Mrs.
He thought of Wiggett walking the earth a free man, and of Smith with a three-months' bill for twenty pounds. His pride as a dealer was shattered beyond repair, and emerging from a species of mist, he became conscious that the carpenter was addressing him. "We'll leave you two young things alone for a bit," said Mr. Tidger, heartily. "We're going out.
"And old Wiggett?" persisted Mrs. Tidger. "Smoke his pipe," was the reply. "Why, what's the matter, Polly?" Mrs. Tidger sniffed derisively. "You men are all alike," she snapped. "What do you think Ann wears that pink bodice for?" "I never noticed she 'ad a pink bodice, Polly," said the carpenter. "No? That's what I say. You men never notice anything," said his wife.
We had gone early to our dormitory because of the rain, and being unable to sleep for the cold, one of the men suggested that Runnles should give us a tune. "'Tis comfortin' to the spirits," said the man, a big fellow known to us as the bosun: his name was Peter Wiggett. Runnles, evidently gratified at this mark of appreciation, put his flute together and began to pipe the tune of Mr.
It was rather hard to have Miller hiding his lack of invention by participating in his compliments and even improving upon them. It was the way he dealt at market-listening to other dealers' accounts of their wares, and adding to them for his own. "I was noticing you the other day, ma'am," continued Mr. Wiggett. "I see you going up the road with a step free and easy as a young girl's."
"And she " prompted Mr. Miller, displaying a polite interest. "She ain't so young as she was," said the carpenter. "Cares of a family," said Mr. Wiggett, plumping boldly. "I always thought Mrs. Pullen was younger than her." "So did I," said Mr. Miller, "much younger." Mr. Wiggett eyed him sharply.
"Take your pick," said Mr. Miller. "You know Mrs. Pullen's got two thousand pounds " "Wiggett's going to have it," said the other; "he as good as told me so." "He's after her money," said the other, sadly. "Look 'ere, Smith, I want you to tell him she's lost it all. Say that Tidger told you, but you wasn't to tell anybody else. Wiggett 'll believe you." Mr.
Wiggett, considerately. "Gin and beer," said Mr. Miller, with the air of a specialist. "Bed's the best thing for it," said Mrs. Tidger, whose temper was beginning to show signs of getting out of hand. Mr. Tidger rose and looked awkwardly at his visitors; Mr. Wiggett got up, and pretending to notice the time, said he must be going, and looked at Mr. Miller.
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