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Updated: May 8, 2025
When he went into the printing-business and bent all day over the formes of type in the composing-room, hand-setting up the columns of the North London Half-penny Herald, to the tune of three-and-eightpence a day, the hollow chest grew hollower, and he developed a "corf."
"It's a great stroke, this general strike," he said, as we bowled along through the crowded but orderly streets. "It's a smashing body-blow. Labour caught us napping and struck at our weakest place, the stomach. I'm going to get out of San Francisco, Corf. Take my advice and get out, too. Head for the country, anywhere. You'll have more chance.
Our skipper had a bad leg, so as I was going aboard for some corf mixture, he just arst me to get him a drop of something to rub in. Well, the skipper here gives me a bottle of red liniment for our skipper's leg, and a big bottle of corf mixture for me, but by mistake I drinks the liniment and gave the corf mixture to our skipper to rub in his leg.
The truth is, I'm not quite tall enough to reach it." Emily lit the gas. "Thank you so much," said Maggie. "I must have a fire. That's the next thing. This cold room must have been a bad thing for Mr. Warlock with his cough." "Yes, 'e 'as got a corf," said Emily, watching Maggie with all her eyes. "Well, do you think I could have a fire?" asked Maggie. Emily considered.
Yes, you're right as rain for the prize, but you might put me on what?" "I'm feather-legged Ned, with ther consumptive corf," said Nickie. "Would you please give me a shillin' t' pay fer me medicine?" "No, dash me if I do!" said Romeo, and he went off laughing.
I could imagine his anxiety, for I knew that he was deep in the big Consolidated-Western deal. "Say, Corf," Atkinson bustled up to me, "is your machine running?" "Yes," I answered, "but what's the matter with your own?" "Broken down, and the garages are all closed. And my wife's somewhere around Truckee, I think, stalled on the overland. Can't get a wire to her for love or money.
My nerves were tingling with mild excitement. It was a sort of placid adventure. I passed Miss Chickering. She was at the helm of her little runabout. She swung around and came after me, catching me at the corner. "Oh, Mr. Corf!" she hailed. "Do you know where I can buy candles? I've been to a dozen shops, and they're all sold out. It's dreadfully awful, isn't it?"
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