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Updated: June 28, 2025
"'Yes, said she; 'that little brown man who came out here and looked at me as if he were determined to know me the next time he saw me. "'Oh, him! said Sam. 'That's a friend of mine, Cap'n Abner Budlong. He's no detective, nor nothin' like one. He jes came out to see who was passin' while I was findin' out about the toll. He's always fond of seein' people.
She went, therefore, to Saratoga in great spirits, and with an unusual wardrobe. The opposing general, Field-marshal Mrs. Budlong Dinks, had certainly the advantage of position, for Hope Wayne was of her immediate party, and she could devise as many opportunities as she chose for bringing Mr. Alfred and his cousin together. She did not lose her chances.
Budlong and "C. D.," and Miss Mattie Gaskett in fact, he missed one not more than another. What did it matter, after all, he reflected, if "Cutie" had kittens in the linen closet, and that Mrs. Appel used the hotel soap to do her laundry? As Mr.
The Honorable Budlong Dinks led off in gravely pounding the table with his fork; and when the rattle of knives, and forks, and spoons, and glasses had subsided, and when Major Scuppernong, of North Carolina who had dined very freely, and was not strictly following the order of events, but cried out in a loud voice in the midst of the applause, "Encore, encore! good for Belch!" had been reduced to silence, then the honorable gentleman who had been toasted rose, and expressed his opinion of the state of the country, to the general effect that General Jackson Sir, and fellow-citizens I mean my friends, and you, Mr.
Darkness and oblivion came upon him for a moment, and then he found himself being lifted tenderly from a bed of petunias and dusted off by the groom from the Riding Academy. The ladies were screaming, but a swift glance showed Wallie not only Mr. Appel but Mr. Cone and Mr. Budlong with their hands over their mouths and their teeth gleaming between their spreading fingers.
Budlong's pet Maltese kitten was done to nine deaths at once by the Disney's fox terrier. Mrs. Budlong mourned the kitten, but there was consolation in the thought that she could now cut the Disneys off her list. Before she could get the kitten decently interred in the back yard, Mrs. Disney was at the front door. She flung her arms round Mrs.
Budlong to a solemn pledge never to paint china again a pledge she has nobly kept. From smeared china she went to that art in which a woman buys something at a store, pulls out half of it, and calls the remnant drawn work. A season of this was succeeded by a mania for sofa cushions.
Piercing, hair-raising, unnatural as they were, Mr. Budlong recognized them. "My wife! Help! Murder! Hicks, where is she? Find a weapon and come with us!" "I gotta get supper," Hicks replied, heartlessly. Mr. Appel, Mr. Stott, and old Mr. Penrose dashed into their tents and dashed out carrying firearms that had been sealed by the Park officials, as is customary, while Mr.
Budlong stuffed cards into bundles, he loaded bundles into the driver's arms as if they were sticks of wood. The driver stacked them up in his wagon. He made seven trips in all and some of the cards fell out and were stuck in still wronger bundles than before. But both the driver and Mr. Budlong were too sleepy to care. The driver finally mounted his seat and called out from the dark: "Say, Mr.
"That's awfully good of you, Mr. Fripp," she said, gratefully. Pinkey, who always jumped when any one called him "Mister," replied bluntly: "Tain't I wantta." "We'll all go!" Mrs. Stott cried, excitedly. "Shore." There was less enthusiasm in the answer. "We were so fortunate as to be able to purchase our equipment for riding broncos before coming out here," explained Mr. Budlong.
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