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Updated: May 23, 2025
One of the leading daily journals editorially explained the matter by stating that the rheumatism story was a ruse, that public interest in Grandmother Cruncher began to wane, and that thereupon Manager Scollop "fixed the matter up" with the strikers.
It wouldn't do for you and Wiggins to have a hand in it, he'll swear so," said the Terror. "Who'll swear?" said Erebus. "The Cruncher. And you're a girl and Wiggins is too young to hear such language," said the Terror. "Rubbish!" said Erebus sharply. "Tell us what it is." The Terror shook his head. "It's a beastly shame! I ought to help I always do," cried Erebus in a bitterly aggrieved tone.
Cruncher; he always pricked up his senses, and became excited, when a funeral passed Tellson's. Naturally, therefore, a funeral with this uncommon attendance excited him greatly, and he asked of the first man who ran against him: "What is it, brother? What's it about?" "I don't know," said the man. "Spies! Yaha! Tst! Spies!" He asked another man. "Who is it?"
"Cruncher is upstairs now, and the public is piling in head over heels to see her. Her portographs is selling like hot cakes and the more you kicks the more she'll be worth to me. Fact is, I wish you would raise a disturbance. There's nothin' like judicious advertisin' in this mooseum business. It would be worth a little something to have a nice, hard strike. Now, then, do you see?"
Then what you have to do, is, to remain there until he wants you." "Is that all, sir?" "That's all. He wishes to have a messenger at hand. This is to tell him you are there." As the ancient clerk deliberately folded and superscribed the note, Mr. Cruncher, after surveying him in silence until he came to the blotting-paper stage, remarked: "I suppose they'll be trying Forgeries this morning?"
Cruncher knuckled his forehead, as Sydney Carton and the spy returned from the dark room. "Adieu, Mr. Barsad," said the former; "our arrangement thus made, you have nothing to fear from me." He sat down in a chair on the hearth, over against Mr. Lorry. When they were alone, Mr. Lorry asked him what he had done? "Not much. If it should go ill with the prisoner, I have ensured access to him, once."
Cruncher, with some diffidence, explained himself as meaning "Old Nick's." "Ha!" said Miss Pross, "it doesn't need an interpreter to explain the meaning of these creatures. They have but one, and it's Midnight Murder, and Mischief." "Hush, dear! Pray, pray, be cautious!" cried Lucie.
Temple Bar was hundreds of miles away, and Madame Defarge was drawing very near indeed. "By the cathedral door," said Miss Pross. "Would it be much out of the way, to take me in, near the great cathedral door between the two towers?" "No, miss," answered Mr. Cruncher. "Then, like the best of men," said Miss Pross, "go to the posting-house straight, and make that change." "I am doubtful," said Mr.
"This is the best thing 'ats happened to me in ten years. Hey, there, you, Dick! Rush around the corner an' get a canvas painted make it big fifteen by twenty feet, and great big black and red letters. Come now, be quick! Take down the words: 'Strike! Make each letter two feet long! 'Our Freaks Fight Grandmother Cruncher! They Refuse To Exhibit Along With The Old Lady!
A woman of orderly and industrious appearance rose from her knees in a corner, with sufficient haste and trepidation to show that she was the person referred to. "What!" said Mr. Cruncher, looking out of bed for a boot. "You're at it agin, are you?" After hailing the mom with this second salutation, he threw a boot at the woman as a third.
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