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"Never, never again shall you leave my protecting wing. Oh, inhuman monster, how could you be so heartless?" "Monster" was given with a decidedly unpleasant bite, and recalled my calmness. "Mrs. Mountchessington Lawk," I placidly observed, "I have not the remotest idea what you are talking about." "Moses Butterby, you're a brute." She rose to her feet.
I turned on the intruder, and discovered the little cobbler, apparently as much under the influence of liquor as on the day of his previous eccentricity, stupidly endeavoring to push one post in the door while the other bade fair to thrust itself through the ventilator. It was then I learned that in the array consisted the entire household treasures of Mrs. Mountchessington Lawk.
Mountchessington Lawk as being, for nearly a year, really saintly. Even the rare intervals at which she visited were marked by a manner the reverse of familiar. Almost every evening she would stand on the opposite side of the street, gazing wistfully at us as we sat in the window; but no persuasion induced her to pay a formal visit more than once a fortnight.
His face was smoky, his clothes were fleecy, and his general appearance was decidedly sooty throughout. A shock head, and more shocky eyebrows, bore a strange resemblance to the patent chimney-sweep; while his clothes seemed rich in past memories of the profession. I had before caught sight of this individual, in a tumble-down, rickety shop near the residence of Mrs. Mountchessington Lawk.
Mountchessington Lawk been a modern Rachel, and I the ruthless destroyer of her household, her conduct toward me could not have exhibited more injured resignation. I somehow grew to feel guilty, and it was only at rare intervals I mustered courage to look either her or Malinda Jane in the face. The anticipated addition to the family brought an immediate addition to our furniture.
Mountchessington Lawk the name of my respected mother-in-law had described our imaginary bower, and her imaginary apartment adjoining, until she had worked herself into a fever of imaginary happiness, I mildly communicated the behest of my departed parent. The scene which followed I can only characterize as indescribably touching.
Mountchessington and Asa Trenchard were exchanging vivacious stupidities, when a young man, so precisely resembling the one described as J. Wilkes Booth that be is asserted to be the same, appeared before the open door of the President's box, and prepared to enter. The servant who attended Mr. Lincoln said politely, "this is the President's box, sir, no one is permitted to enter."
Mountchessington Lawk. She had complacently opened the siege with the mixture of a hot gin-toddy. It was, moreover, rendered impressive by a waving spoon, which Mrs. Mountchessington Lawk moved solemnly backward and forward in a warning, funereal manner, as though protesting against some appalling fate. That she was in possession of my apartment, if not my house, I instinctively realized.
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