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Updated: May 21, 2025
The lapels and collar of his uniform-coat had been treated to a vigorous brushing. In fact, he was arrayed for action: to step down the hill in an hour's time, to call upon Mr. Fossell at the Bank and draw his pay, if any should be forthcoming. "Good morning, Major!" "Good morning, Sir Cæsar." The Commandant nodded towards a chair. "I thank you."
And my brother-in-law tells me it was once alive a kind of fish and got itself embedded in this piece of limestone because it was too lazy to move. A lesson in that" Mr. Fossell wagged his head sagely "if we choose to take it! To be sure, it happened thousands of years ago; but there it is and here are we. For my part, I don't look at things humorously like my brother-in-law.
The players dropped their cards. All listened. "Upon my word," suggested the Vicar, who had heard nothing, but felt the concussion, "if it weren't positively known to be empty one would say the powder magazine at the Garrison " "Oh, Richard! Richard!" here Mrs. Fossell came running in from the dining-room with a dish of trifle in her hands "Is it an earthquake?" "I I rather think not, my dear!"
Fossell, perhaps and he from a week-old newspaper caught an echo of the world's markets, whether they rose or fell. But, in truth, Sir Cæsar had chosen carefully, deliberately.
"Why, Fossell's. Good Lord! didn't you know?" "My dear Sir Cæsar " Mr. Fossel stepped forward solicitously. "Eh? So it is.... Good evening, Mr. Fossell! That picture of the Waterloo Banquet seemed familiar, somehow." The Lord Proprietor nodded towards a framed engraving on the wall. "Yes, to be sure and Landseer's 'Twa Dogs. But this is worse than the Arabian Nights!
Rogers had noted; and being in merry pin to-night over winning his half-crown, at a moment when Mr. Mr. Fossell stared in the act of putting down a trump. For a moment he appeared to think that Mr. Rogers had gone mad; then, in spite of himself, the lines of his mouth relaxed. "I do not think," said Mr. Pope, heavily and the lines of Mr.
The soldiers were always the worst-behaved lot in the Islands, and perpetually grumbling though in those days," added Miss Gabriel, "I always understood that they were fed and clothed sufficiently." The Commandant whitened. Mrs. Fossell, a nervous body in a cap with lilac ribbon, rose in some little fluster, and opined that it was almost time to cut for partners.
If only, as an artilleryman, he could have summoned Mr. Fossell's Bank by a dropping shot! This business of hand-to-hand assault belonged by rights to another branch of the service. Mr. Fossell stood behind the counter in conference with a junior clerk, and the sunshine pouring through the windows the only plate-glass windows in Garland Town gilded the dome of Mr. Fossell's bald head.
Fossil Fossell: this is a fossil, you see, and I'm called Fossell: and so he sends it to me. He has made a good deal of fun out of my name before now, in his humorous way. Not that I mind, of course." "I dare say not. Did you say that the papers were all right?" "The papers?... Yes, of course, the papers are all right. Will you take it in notes or gold?" "In gold, if you please."
The Commandant heard it across the room as he waited for Mr. Rogers to cut the cards; and the Vicar, by a freak of hearing, picked it up at once. "My dear lady," he demanded, "are you talking of progenitiveness!" "N-no," stammered Mrs. Fossell, in confusion. "Nothing of the sort. I was referring to the garrison here being left out of mind like the regiment you spoke of "
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