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Updated: September 28, 2025
It was too late to select. Mr. and Mrs. Budlong with their lengthy list in hand sprinted up one aisle and down another, pointing, prodding, rarely pausing to say "How much?" but monotonously chanting: "Gimme this! Gimme that! Gimme two of these! Gimme six of them! Gimme that! Gimme this! Gimme them!"
Through Johnetta Ackerley's memory dashed a hundred caustic comments she had made on Mrs. Budlong. She blushed and sighed, turned away and closed the door after her, like the last line of an elegy. A surge of triumph swept over Mrs. Budlong. Success at last. Then the door opened and Johnetta reappeared on the sill with a look of angelic contrition. "I hardly know what to say," she said.
You can't refuse your forgiveness when I implore it, can you?" Mrs. Budlong wanted to but could not and the two women fell about each other's throats and exchanged moan for moan.
Cone expressed his delight at seeing her, and there was no thought on the minds of either as to the hotel rules she had violated or the food she had carried away from the table in the front of her blouse and her reticule. "You are looking in splendid health, Mrs. Budlong," he asserted, quite as if that lady ever had looked otherwise. "Yes, the change benefited me greatly."
Budlong Dinks. The weaker vessel smiled consciously, as if he very well knew that was the one particular thing which under no conceivable circumstances could she forget. "Budlong, I really think Alfred ought to keep a horse." "My dear!" replied the Honorable B., in a tone of mingled reproach, amusement, contempt, and surprise. "Oh! I know we can't afford it.
"I'm going to that phone and tell Mrs. Detwiller what I think of her." "You keep away from that phone. Before you could ring off again her husband would have a Christmas present wished onto ME!" The next morning Mrs. Budlong arose from dreams of finding bargains after all. She felt a spirit in her feet that led her, who knows how, to the Christmas-window street.
Being president chiefly meant lending one's house for meetings as well as one's china and tea and sandwiches, and being five dollars ahead of anybody else in every subscription. Mrs. Budlong was panic-stricken with her own success, for there is nothing harder to handle than a dam-break of prosperity. Worse yet, Mr. Budlong was ceasing to be the meek thing of yore.
The Honorable Budlong Dinks watched the result of the illustration with deep interest, and shook his head gravely when he saw that the stone was thoroughly drenched by the salivary cascade. He seemed to feel the force of the argument. But he was not in a position to commit himself. "Now, I think," said the Honorable B.J. Ele, "that it is the only thing that can save the country."
Budlong, with a smile wreathing her face, was listening to the recital. "I'll tell you the rest when you are not so busy," Miss Mattie said, taking her key from Mr. Cone hastily. Mrs. Budlong declared that her pleasure equalled his own when Mr.
Budlong, who, staggering with exhaustion, huge drops on his pallid face, and wheezing like an old accordeon, all but fainted when he saw the wife of his bosom. Mrs. Budlong, looking like a corn-fed Aphrodite, stood in the middle of the pool, with her fat white back, wet and glistening, flecked with brown particles that resembled decayed vegetation. "What's the matter, Honey Dumplin'?" cried Mr.
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