United States or Saudi Arabia ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
I don't think Mrs Twitter quite likes it, and I'm sure she's almost breaking her heart at the thought of leaving George Yard. It is said that their friends Mrs Loper, Mrs Larrabel, Stickler, and Crackaby, want to join, but I rather think Sir Richard isn't very keen to have them. Mr Stephen Welland is also coming.
As for Loper, Larrabel, Crackaby, Stickler, and Company feeling that it would be improper to remain after the host and hostess were gone; that it would be equally wrong to offer to go with them, and quite inappropriate to witness the home-coming, they took themselves off, but each resolved to flutter unseen in the neighbourhood until he, or she, could make quite sure that the prodigal had returned.
That genial old man was busy one morning in the nursery, amusing little Mita, who had by that time attained to what we may style the dawn-of-intelligence period of life, and was what Mrs Loper, Mr Crackaby, and Mr Stickler called "engaging." "Mariar!" shouted Mr Twitter to his amiable spouse, who was finishing her toilet in the adjoining room.
She is likewise strong in the tea-party line, and among her most favoured guests are two ladies named respectively Loper and Larrabel, and two gentlemen named Crackaby and Stickler. It is not absolutely certain whether these four are a blessing to the new settlement or the reverse.
It never occurred to Mrs Twitter that this sensitiveness was very much the cause of his fall and disappearance, for the same weakness, or cowardice, that rendered him unable to resist the playful banter of his drinking comrades, prevented him from returning to his family in disgrace. "You have not yet advertised, I think?" said Crackaby.
"Mr Twitter is rather late to-night, I think?" said Mr Crackaby, consulting his watch, which was antique and turnipy in character. "He is, indeed," replied the hostess, "business must have detained him, for he is the very soul of punctuality.
"This is your long-lost sister Matilda," rehearsed Mrs Twitter, like one in a dream. The situation was rendered still more complex by the sudden entrance of Mr Twitter and his friend Crackaby. "What what what's to do now, Mariar?" "Sister Matilda!" shouted all three with a gasp. "Lunatics, every one of 'em," murmured Crackaby.
From which fate many hundreds are annually rescued by timely aid at George Yard, the supplies for which are sent by liberal-minded Christians in all ranks of life from Mr Crackaby with his 150 pounds a year, up through Mr Brisbane and his class to the present Earl of Shaftesbury who, by the way, has taken a deep interest and lent able support to this particular Mission for more than a quarter of a century.
He pretended to great difficulty, and she rebuked him with most comical gravity, treating him as a child. He used to say that when he came to Alibi Crackaby he broke down, and Pin-Pan, Musky-Dan, Tweedle-um Twoddle-um made him roar with laughter.
Having delivered himself of these sentiments somewhat sententiously, Mr Crackaby, that was his name, proceeded to consume the crumpet. There was a general tendency on the part of the other guests to agree with their hostess, but one black sheep in the flock objected.
Word Of The Day