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Updated: June 21, 2025
Then he bent over, threw in the clutch, and discarding all speed laws, sent the car humming and tearing away. "Hold tight!" he said through his teeth. "Whatever comes, we've got to get to Burnt Acre Mill inside of an hour. If you know any prayers, Dollops, say them." "The Lord fetch us home in time for supper!" gulped the boy obediently.
"It's a fine evenin' wot mykes yer 'omesick fer a sight uf yer own fireside. 'Ave another drink later, mebbe. Come on." Dollops linked arms with him, and, smoking and talking, the two men went off up the dark lane which led from the quayside, and of a night-time was as black as a pocket. Cleek's torch showed them the pathway, and as they walked they talked in rapid whispers.
Pack up again and we'll be off to the land as God made it, and where God's things still live; and we'll have a fortnight of it a whole blessed fortnight, my boy, with the river and the fields and the flowers and the dreams that hide in trees." Dollops made no reply. He simply bolted for the kit-bag and began to pack at once.
"I made certain I should find you at home. Fairly floored when I discovered that you weren't. If it hadn't been for that boy, Dollops bright young button, that Dollops, Cleek; exceedingly bright, b'gad." "Yes," agreed Cleek, quietly. "Bright, faithful, and inventive." "Really? What has the young beggar invented, then?"
Then he bent over, threw in the clutch, and discarding all speed laws, sent the car humming and tearing away. "Hold tight!" he said, through his teeth. "Whatever comes, we've got to get to Burnt Acre Mill inside of an hour. If you know any prayers, Dollops, say them." "The Lord fetch us home in time for supper!" gulped the boy obediently.
"And he turned us out himself himself himself!" This from McTurk. "He can't begin to suspect us. Oh, Stalky, it's the loveliest thing we've ever done." "Gum! Gum! Dollops of gum!" shouted Beetle, his spectacles gleaming through a sea of lather. "Ink and blood all mixed. I held the little beast's head all over the Latin proses for Monday. Golly, how the oil stunk!
He told his story of what he had said he had seen that night, in a comparatively steady voice, though he was of the type that is addicted to nervousness when appearing before people. Cleek, at the back of the court, with Mr. Narkom on his right and Dollops on his left, waited for that one weak spot in the evidence, and saw with a smile how the coroner lit upon it.
God! the man who could think evil things when a nightingale sings, isn't fit to stand even in the Devil's presence." Dollops looked at him half-puzzled, half-awed. He could not understand the character of the man: there were so many sides to it; and they came and went so oddly. One minute, a very brute-beast in his ferocity, the next, a woman in his tenderness and a poet in his thoughts.
"Sir, you do lick me, you fair do," said Dollops, laughing unsteadily, and drawing his sleeve across his eyes. "Arfter wot you've been and went through, a-sittin' there and whistlin' as merry as can be like as if life was all beer and skittles, and you hadn't a care in the world." "I haven't for the minute, my lad," said Cleek with a laugh of utter happiness. "Beer and skittles?
Dollops had made that discovery long ago and had put his conclusions regarding it into the mournfully-uttered sentence: "A skirt's got him!" But, after one violent pang of fierce and rending jealousy, was grateful to that "skirt" for bringing happiness to the man he loved above all other things upon earth and whose welfare was the dearest of his heart's desires.
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