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Updated: June 28, 2025
"At odds and ends of time," Ezra Jennings went on, "I reproduced my shorthand notes, in the ordinary form of writing leaving large spaces between the broken phrases, and even the single words, as they had fallen disconnectedly from Mr. Candy's lips.
He had entrusted the search for that gentleman's address to Mr Candy's cashier, who had informed him, most opportunely, that she was about to set out on a wedding tour, and that she had possessed herself of clues of much value which could be readily followed up in connection with the projected journey.
But although they were very merry around the fire, Heavy could not long be content. The popcorn balls disappeared like magic and the stout girl kept worrying the others with questions about the taffy. "Don't you suppose that candy's cool? I declare! those boys might play a joke on us they might creep back and steal all three pans." "Dear me, Jennie!" cried Ruth Fielding.
He took a slip of paper from his pocket, and handed it to Betteredge. "The list for next week," he said. His eyes just rested on me again and he left the room as quietly as he had entered it. "Who is that?" I asked. "Mr. Candy's assistant," said Betteredge. "By-the-bye, Mr.
'It won't be long so, I hope, says I; 'you'll be kindly welcome there, as everybody is made by my master: there is not a freer-spoken gentleman, or a better beloved, high or low, in all Ireland. And of what passed after this I'm not sensible, for we drank Sir Candy's good health and the downfall of his enemies till we could stand no longer ourselves.
Blake, I shall feel it like a last gleam of sunshine, falling on the evening of a long and clouded day." We parted. It was then the fifteenth of June. The events of the next ten days every one of them more or less directly connected with the experiment of which I was the passive object are all placed on record, exactly as they happened, in the Journal habitually kept by Mr. Candy's assistant.
Among my written proofs of the assertion which I have just advanced or, I ought to say, among the written experiments, tending to put my assertion to the proof there IS one, in which your name occurs. For nearly the whole of one night, Mr. Candy's mind was occupied with SOMETHING between himself and you. I have got the broken words, as they dropped from his lips, on one sheet of paper.
But he didn't do anything of the kind, and Candy considers himself still in his employment, and vows he's going to get hold of you before the other party does; so, you see, you have got two sets of detectives after you, and they'll be mighty sharp, for the first one that gets you will make the money." "Where are Candy's detectives now?" asked Lawrence.
"She's got to give me some candy, then," rejoined his young interlocutor. "I can't get any candy here any American candy. American candy's the best candy." "And are American little boys the best little boys?" asked Winterbourne. "I don't know. I'm an American boy," said the child. "I see you are one of the best!" laughed Winterbourne. "Are you an American man?" pursued this vivacious infant.
"Candy's my specialty," Knight declared. "I could come over to-night and we'll make up a lot. I'll show you a Spanish pinoche that's great." "Thank you, I know that pinoche it's a Texas product; but you may come over just the same." The arrangements were soon completed. Blue Bonnet was to waylay Mr. Ashe and not let him escape next day until the party was over. "That will be easy," she remarked.
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