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Updated: June 9, 2025
To his mind recurred the spiteful buzz of that voice over the wire "Gissing Street is not healthy for you." He remembered the scuffle on the Bridge, the whispering in the alley, and the sinister face of the druggist at his prescription counter. The whole series of events seemed a grossly fantastic nightmare, yet it frightened him. "If only I were in Brooklyn," he groaned, "it wouldn't be so bad.
The passengers applauded, and there was quite a clatter of camera shutters as they snapped the Pomerania looming grandly above them. "Boats are all provisioned and equipped," shouted Gissing. "I've broadcasted your position by radio. The barometer's at Fixed Fair. Pull off now, and 'ware the screw." He moved the telegraph handle to DEAD SLOW, and the Pomerania began to slip forward gently.
"But, Papa," protested the vice-president, "the superintendent had to obey the rules. You know how strict the underwriters are about smoking. Of course he should have warned Gissing, instead of discharging him." "Rules!" interrupted old Beagle fiercely "Rules don't apply in a case like this. I tell you that fellow has a genius for storekeeping. Haven't I watched him on the floor?
"By Jove," he said, "that's terrible, isn't it? It's no use trying to carry on until I've got that under the hatch. Look here, would you mind, just as a favour, keep things going while I wrestle with that question? I know it's asking a lot, but perhaps " "It's quite all right," Gissing replied. "Naturally you want to work these things out."
From the deplorable insight with which he describes the nerveless, underfed, compulsory optimism of these poor in spirit and poor in hope Gissing might almost have been an 'odd woman' himself.
With a cry of anger they all leaped at the roller. But he was so high above them, they had no chance. He seized the coal-scoop and whanged Mr. Poodle across the skull. The Bishop came dangerously near reaching him, but Gissing released a jet of scalding steam from an exhaust-cock, which gave the impetuous prelate much cause for grief. A lump of coal, accurately thrown, discouraged Mr. Airedale.
The boats took the water in orderly fashion, and were cast off. Remaining members of the crew swarmed down the falls. The bandsmen had a boat to themselves, and resumed their tune as soon as they were settled. Gissing, left alone on the ship, waved for silence. "Look sharp, man!" cried Captain Scottie. "Honour's satisfied! Take your place in the boat!"
It lay deep among tall grasses and the withered brittle stalks of last autumn's goldenrod, and here Gissing rambled in the green hush of twilight, after the puppies were in bed. In less responsible days he would have lain down on his back, with all four legs upward, and cheerily shrugged and rolled to and fro, as the crisp ground-stubble was very pleasing to the spine.
Groups, Bunks, and Yelpers were just then filling the garden with horrid clamour. They had been quarrelling, and one had pushed the other two down the back steps. Gissing, who had attempted to find a quiet moment to scald the ants out of the ice-box, had just rushed forth and boxed them all. As he stood there, angry and waving a steaming dishclout, two Chows appeared.
He was about to utilize a brief pause by sipping his tea, when a white-headed patriarch suddenly appeared beside him. "Mr. Gissing," said the vice-president, "this is my father, Mr. Beagle senior." Gissing, by quick work, shuffled the teacup into his left paw, and the meringue plate into the crook of his elbow, so he was ready for the old gentleman's salutation. Mr.
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