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Updated: May 20, 2025
Tashingford, the chemist, appeared at his door, in shirt sleeves and an apron, with his photographic plate holders in his hand. And then like a vision of purpose came Mr. Gambell, the greengrocer, running out of Clayford's Alley and buttoning on his jacket as he ran. His great brass fireman's helmet was on his head, hiding it all but the sharp nose, the firm mouth, the intrepid chin.
"Not in the least. But, my dear love, did you ever permit yourself the reflection that the Venerable Gambell is a bachelor?" "Hilda, you shall not! We all love him you shall not lead him astray!" "You would not think of the altar ?" Miss Livingstone's pale small smile fell like a snow-flake upon Hilda's mood and was swallowed up. "You are very preposterous," she said. "Go on.
"Lawks a mussy!" said the old lady. "Wonders and Wonders! Why! it's Mr. Gambell! 'Iding 'is 'ed in that thing! I never did!" "Can we get her out?" said Mr. Gambell. "There's not much time." "He might git stuck in it." "You'll get stuck in it," said Mr. Polly, "come along!" "Not for jumpin' I don't," said the old lady, understanding his gestures rather than his words. "Not a bit of it.
Wintershed at the bicycle and gramaphone shop to the right, played the organ in the church, and Clamp of the toy shop was pew opener and so forth, Gambell, the greengrocer, waited at table and his wife cooked, and Carter, the watchmaker, left things to his wife while he went about the world winding clocks, but Mr.
He ran straight to the fire station and tried the door, and turned about and met the eye of Boomer still at his upper window. "The key!" cried Mr. Gambell, "the key!" Mr. Boomer made some inaudible explanation about his trousers and half a minute. "Seen old Rumbold?" cried Mr. Polly, approaching Mr. Gambell. "Gone over Downford for a walk," said Mr. Gambell. "He told me! But look 'ere!
I bain't no good at jumping and I wunt." They urged her gently but firmly towards the window. "You lemme do it my own way," said the old lady at the sill.... "I could do it better if e'd take it off." "Oh! carm on!" "It's wuss than Carter's stile," she said, "before they mended it. With a cow a-looking at you." Mr. Gambell hovered protectingly below. Mr. Polly steered her aged limbs from above.
Boomer was dancing about and swearing and shouting; this direct attack upon his apparatus outraged his sense of chivalry. The rest of the brigade hovered in a disheartened state about the rescued fire escape, and tried to piece Boomer's comments into some tangible instructions. "Hi!" said Rusper from the window. "Kik! What's up?" Gambell answered him out of his helmet. "Hose!" he cried.
"And it was wicked considering the occasion I dropped the character. I let myself out!" "You didn't shock the Archdeacon?" "Not in the least. But, my dear love, did you ever permit yourself the reflection that the Venerable Gambell is a bachelor?" "Hilda, you shall not! We all love him you shall not lead him astray!" "You would not think of the altar?"
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