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Updated: June 13, 2025
"Well, sir," said Diggs, after looking to Melissa for approval or inspiration, "we decided as how Christmas comes but once a year, and as the boys in the shop can manage very nicely without us for a couple of hours, we says to ourselves we would come down and 'ear the 'Christmas Carol' if you don't mind, sir, for old times' sake. Miss Stokes I mean to say, Mrs.
Flanders, to get a new baby at least once a year. The first year, as I explained, we had three. Two or three years ago, one came in May and another in September." "Mental arithmetic gives you twelve in all," said young Mr. Flanders. "Eleven. We lost one in 1906. Little Harriet." "Eleanor, sir, begging your pardon," corrected Diggs. "Right. Thank you, Diggs. Malnutrition.
Rann was a match for any man in politics, he knew the great, silent voice, some one had said the man who was clever enough to let others do his talking for him. Yes, he was glad that Rann would back him up. The remaining callers appeared together in his reverie Vaden and Diggs. They were never mentioned apart, and they never worked singly.
The transformation scene was made complete by the fact that Bunch was now wearing my hat. In answer to Bunch's question, the redoubtable Diggs smiled indulgently and said with pride-choked tones, "A maleyfactor, sir, caught in the meshes of the law and hauled before this here trybune of Justice by these hands!"
Does the reader remember Diggs' tommy shop? And Master Joseph? Well a terrible scene took place there.
He accepted their good intentions, he delighted in their thoughtfulness and esteem, but he never permitted them to go beyond a certain well-defined line. So don't quote the Bible to me." He put a stop to the cunning schemes of Diggs and Watson, who, with Melissa's connivance, began a regular and systematic attempt to smuggle bacon, eggs, butter and potatoes into the kitchen.
"Well," spluttered Diggs; "it don't seem zactly right, seein' as how I on'y pulled the cuss out of his clothes and then let him go with a lambastin'." "The ten-spot is for the clothes you pulled him out of," Bunch said, picking up the garments and handing them to me. "Keep them, John, as a souvenir of your first burglar and true friend, Bunch!"
My foot is on my neighbours' heath; I'm host to no man." "Come, now, Beau," remonstrated Jack Morson, looking down from his saddle; "I see in Miss Betty's eyes that she wants me to carry that holly I swear I do." "Then you see more than is written," declared Champe, from the other side, "for it's as plain as day that one eye says Diggs and one Lightfoot isn't it, Betty?"
He was beautifully curved and his black preacher uniform looked as if it had been put on him by a paperhanger. I forgot to tell you that his name was the Reverend Ponsonby Diggs. He had to tell it to me four times and then write it down, for the way he handled his words was positively heartless. He clipped them, beheaded them, disemboweled them and warped them all out of shape.
There were hot words with Diggs, who hinted that Virginia was not the beauty of the century, and threats of blows with Morson, who too boldly affirmed that she was. In the end Champe rode between them, and sent Prince Rupert on his way with a touch of the whip. "For heaven's sake, keep your twaddle to yourselves!" he exclaimed impatiently, "or take my advice, and make for the nearest duck pond.
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