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Updated: May 21, 2025
"Call what you're doing hard work!" he drawls, between his contented whiffs, addressing the two perspiring novices, who have been grinding away steadily up stream for the last hour and a half; "why, Jim Biffles and Jack and I, last season, pulled up from Marlow to Goring in one afternoon never stopped once. Do you remember that, Jack?"
Before I tell you my own story, however the story of what happened in the Blue Chamber I would wish to preface it with I feel a good deal of hesitation about telling you this story of my own. You see it is not a story like the other stories that I have been telling you, or rather that Teddy Biffles, Mr. Coombes, and my uncle have been telling you: it is a true story.
And then, somehow or other, we must have got on to ghosts; because the next recollection I have is that we were telling ghost stories to each other. Teddy Biffles told the first story, I will let him repeat it here in his own words. Biffles called his story I was little more than a lad when I first met with Johnson.
He said he was glad to notice that I liked it. Aunt went to bed soon after supper, leaving the local curate, old Dr. Scrubbles, Mr. Samuel Coombes, our member of the County Council, Teddy Biffles, and myself to keep Uncle company. We agreed that it was too early to give in for some time yet, so Uncle brewed another bowl of punch; and I think we all did justice to that at least I know I did.
Oh yes. I'll take you fellows down and show you it, next time you come to our place: 10 p.m. to 4 a.m. are its general hours, 10 to 2 on Saturdays. It made me cry very much, that story, young Biffles told it with so much feeling. We were all a little thoughtful after it, and I noticed even the old Doctor covertly wipe away a tear.
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