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Updated: June 5, 2025
Good-night!" Still puckering his brow into lines of mysterious suggestiveness, the learned Netlips went his way, Roger Buggins gazing after him admiringly. "That man's reg'lar lost down 'ere," he observed "He oughter ha' been in Parliament." "Ah, so he ought!" agreed Dan Ridley "Where's there's fog he'd a made it foggier, and where's there's no understandin' he'd a made it less understandable.
There are many beautiful stones and appropriate inscriptions during all that long period, in spite of the advent of Mr. Buggins and his ugliness, and the charm and pathos is often in a phrase, a single line, as in this from St. Keverne, 1710, a widow's epitaph on her husband: Rest here awhile, thou dearest part of me.
"And indeed, Miss, I shouldn't have proposed such a thing, were it ever so, if I had suspected for a hinstant how things were a going to be. For Buggins is a man as knows his place, and never puts himself beyond it! But you was that close, Miss "
The sentry started; then saluted and stood to attention. On his face was a worshipping look of admiration and awe, such as some young soldier of the Grande Armee might have worn on seeing Napoleon; for the newcomer was Clarence Chugwater. "Your name?" said Clarence, eyeing the sturdy young warrior. "Private William Buggins, sir." "You watch well, Private Buggins. England has need of such as you."
Buggins had started the conversation, and Mrs. Buggins was well known to be a lady both pious and depressing.
You defy me, do you? This is mutiny! Take that! And that! "He snatched two pistols from his sash and commenced firing, right and left. The first shot hit Mike the Shark and doubled up the book-keeper like a jack-knife, and the second one did the same for Sandy Buggins. "'Hold hard, Cap'n! cried the old bo's'n, 'p'r'aps you'll tell us what all this pirating WAS for, if it wa'n't for money.
While staying in Arundel Street she had been altogether ignorant that the story of the Lion and the Lamb had become public, or that her name had been frequent in men's mouths. When Mrs Buggins had once told her that she was thus becoming famous, she had ridiculed Mrs Buggins' statement.
"Mebbe Passon Walden was thinkin' of Oliver Leach," suggested Bainton with a slight twinkle in his eye; "And 'ow m'appen we'd best be all of us meek and quiet when he's by. It might be so, Mr. Buggins, Passon's a rare one to guess as 'ow the wind blows nor'- nor'-east sometimes in the village, for all that it's a warm day and the peas comin' on beautiful. Eh, now, Mr. Buggins?"
She cosseted herself with no false ideas as to the nature of the work which she proposed to undertake. She knew very well that she might have to keep rougher company than that of Buggins if she put her shoulder to that wheel. She was willing enough to do this, and had been willing to encounter such company ever since she left the Cedars. She was prepared for the roughness.
Buggins!" responded the tailor cheerfully, as he turned out into the cool sweet dimness of the hawthorn-hedged lane in which the 'Mother Huff' stood "I make bold to say that church or no church, Miss Vancourt's bein' at her own 'ouse 'ull be a gain an' a blessing to the village."
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