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Updated: May 9, 2025
"It's broken," he moaned to himself; "I know it is!" and the cold perspiration stood out upon his forehead. "I shouldn't ha' persoomed to touch none o' master's contrapshums, sir," broke in the gardener, rather sharply, "so don't you go and tell him as I did. I know how partickler he always is." "Broken broken!" murmured Tom. "The poor speculum and after all that work."
I've knowed Furzebrough man and boy ever since I was born, and there arn't a soul in it as'd go and get that ladder and break in and steal your uncle's contrapshums.
They say master's got a crack in his head about that thing he's making, and that he ought to be stopped." "Why?" said Tom, laughing. "Oh, it's nothing to laugh about, sir. They say the place won't be safe, for he'll be having a blow-up one of these days with his contrapshums." "What nonsense!" "Well, sir, I don't know about that.
"Say, Master Tom," said the gardener, "ain't it more waste o' time to go glass-grinding and making contrapshums like this? Hey, but it's precious heavy," he continued, as he helped to lift one end of the case on to the long barrow. "Waste of time to make scientific instruments?" cried Tom. "Ay. What's the good on it when it's done?" "To look at the sun, moon, and stars, to be sure."
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