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Updated: June 12, 2025
This spurred the seaman to action. He cautiously pushed the door open again, and peeped through a narrow crack. "Clemmie, be you in there?" "Where else do you think I'd be, down the well?" "Can't I talk to you, Clemmie?" "No. I don't want you to come sneaking into my kitchen at this hour in the morning. You ought to be in bed."
"Now, ain't that the strangest you ever see?" observed the Captain. He was cut short by the sound of a familiar toot out in the harbor. He stared at the housekeeper in dumb amazement. "Clemmie, did you hear that? What in tarnation was it?" "It sounded like your power-boat." "But it ain't round here." Together they went outside.
A note of friendliness in her voice led him to open the door a little wider. "You're up too early, Clemmie." "I've got a lot of work to do." "If you ain't too busy, I'd like awful well to speak to you about something." "Well, I am busy, leastwise too busy to be bothered with your nonsense." "It ain't foolishness this time."
Not if I know what Clemmie Pipkin's doing." "I tell you I ain't proposing to you, I'm just asking you. As far as that town goes, a few things more for it to talk about can't do her no harm." Miss Pipkin paused on the threshold to give a parting shot, but the Captain spoke first and spiked her guns. "The other feller happens to be the new parson." Her expression changed.
Clemmie, if only we could see this thing through without too much red tape!... No permission need be given for the work of these kitchens, as we are under the Belgian Minister of War and act for Belgium. I thought of coming over to London for a day or two, and I can still do so, only I know you will be able to do this thing better than anyone, and will think of things that no one else thinks of.
You look like one yourself." "Maybe 'twas ghosts I see, but they looked purty tolerable real to me. Yes, Clemmie, I've sartin been looking on things what ain't good for a healthy man to see. One of 'em is that I'm a ruined man, and there ain't no help for it." "Don't talk such nonsense! Get out and fill your lungs with fresh air. That cures the blues quicker than anything I know."
Harkutt was to his wife's peculiarity, he was not above assuming a certain slightly fatigued attitude befitting it. "Yes," he said, with a vague sigh, "where's Clemmie?" "Lyin' down since dinner; she reckoned she wouldn't get up to supper," she returned soothingly. "Phemie's goin' to take her up some sass and tea. The poor dear child wants a change."
You get that idea out of your head along with the notion that Jim Fox is going to help you, and you'll get a ship. The very best there is afloat, too." "It's mighty kind of you to say that, Clemmie. I cal'late the notion about Jim is purty well shook out. That's one thing I wanted to talk to you about. You know the old place here had been sort of run down for a good many year.
They've been putting the work of three on me, and I ain't got the strength." "It ain't right, Clemmie, for you to be wearing yourself out in this kind of work. God intended you for something better. I ain't proposing," he hastily added, lest his bird take the sudden notion to wing her way back into the bush. Miss Pipkin gave him a quick look, and left the room.
"You'd best tell 'em where you're staying, Clemmie, or you're li'ble to hear some things not intended for your ears." She bridled past him and swept into the church. There was a brief pause in the buzz, but the hubbub that followed was doubled in intensity. That evening while Miss Pipkin was placing the food on the table she appeared worried.
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