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Updated: May 4, 2025
With his shoulder Long Ede pushed up the trap. They saw his head framed in a panel of moonlight, with one frosty star above it. He was wriggling through. "Pitch him up a sleeping-bag, somebody," the Gaffer ordered, and Cooney ran with one. "Thank 'ee, mate," said Long Ede, and closed the trap. They heard his feet stealthily crunching the frozen stuff across the roof.
On the morning of the funeral, Uncle Thomas himself tied scraps of crape around the stems of his tall geraniums, according to an ancient custom; and Mrs. Tregenza arrived at Drift in good time to join the few who mourned. Six men bore Joan's oaken coffin to Sancreed, while there walked behind her, Uncle Chirgwin, Mary and Thomasin, Mr. Bartlett, his wife, Gaffer Polglaze, and two farm maidens.
Because my luck was bad; because I couldn't find many enough of 'em. How was his luck? Always good. Notice this! Always good! Ah! There's a many games, Miss Abbey, in which there's chance, but there's a many others in which there's skill too, mixed along with it. 'That Gaffer has a skill in finding what he finds, who doubts, man? asked Miss Abbey.
I found Simon, sure enough, in the lane, seated in his cart, and his face looked squarer and grimmer even than usual. "Oh, Peter!" said he, gripping my hand, "it be come at last Gaffer be goin'." "Going, Simon?" "Dyin', Peter. Fell downstairs 's marnin'. Doctor says 'e can't last the day out sinkin' fast, 'e be, an' 'e be axin' for 'ee, Peter.
Do thou mount this tree and look upon them, lest the benisons of the devout escape thee. So Jaafer climbed up, perplexed at these words, and looking in, saw Noureddin and the damsel and Gaffer Ibrahim with a cup in his hand.
"He is beyond the reach of all tokens from you save prayers and masses," returned Randall, gravely. "Ay? You say not so? Old gaffer dead?" And when the soldier was told how the feeble thread of life had been snapped by the shock of joy on his coming, a fit of compunction and sorrow seized him.
Gaffer Swanthold speaks truly when he saith, 'Better a crust with content than honey with a sour heart." "Yea," quoth Little John, as he rubbed his new-made bowstring with yellow beeswax, "the life we lead is the life for me. Thou speakest of the springtime, but methinks even the winter hath its own joys.
She polishes "feyther's cheer" reverently, and treasures his pipe, and sobs as she cuts up his clothes for suits for her little lads, and takes in his great-coat to make it fit her gaffer. "It was a blessed release," she says, wiping her eyes, "an' we had a nice funeral, but it's lonely wi'out him."
"Sad things, these wooden shoes and warming pans," retorted the young lady, who seemed to take pleasure in augmenting his wrath; "and it is a comfort you don't seem to want a warming pan at present, Mr. Jobson. I am afraid Gaffer Rutledge has not confined his incivility to language Are you sure he did not give you a beating?"
His gaze wandered over their bowed forms "The Gaffer, David Faed, Dan Cooney, the Snipe, and and George Lashman in his bunk, of course and me." But, then, who was the seventh? He began to count. "There's myself Lashman, in his bunk David Faed, the Gaffer, the Snipe, Dan Cooney . . . One, two, three, four well, but that made seven. Then who was the seventh?
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