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Updated: May 21, 2025
Here we studied the history of China in the faces of the moon-eyed heathens, enjoyed the curious haunts of humanity the entire summer. That fall I hired Old Ed Scott, Bert Terrell, Jack Troy and ferd Gotch. Myself and the Kid made up and we calculated quite a decent gang. I think we were by far the largest and best gang in the west.
Says Professor Gotch, as quoted by J. Arthur Thomson in his "Introduction to Science": "To the thought of a scientific mind the universe with all its suns and worlds is throughout one seething welter of modes of motion, playing in space, playing in ether, playing in all existing matter, playing in all living things, playing, therefore, in ourselves."
Simply because the firm had found out I had no influence with Sir Gregory Gotch, no standing socially at all. I was an alien in their ranks. I went out of that office with all the externals of a gentleman and a public-school boy, but inwardly an outsider as you may say. One thing I had though, and that was the firm conviction that 'pull' and not merit counted.
"There used to be a captain in one of the upper country companies that held religious services in his company, and the boys claimed that he was equally good on a prayer, a fight, or holding aces in a poker game," said Gotch, as he filled his pipe. Amongst Dad's other accomplishments was his unfailing readiness to tell of his experiences in the service.
It was long before I ceased to shudder at the name of ‘Swing.’ The dialect of the village was, I need not add, East Anglian. The people said ‘I woll’ for ‘I will’; ‘you warn’t’ for ‘you were not,’ and so on. A girl was called a ‘mawther,’ a pitcher a ‘gotch,’ a ‘clap on the costard’ was a knock on the head, a lad was a ‘bor.’ Names of places especially were made free with.
It seemed to me, the dreadful day, intolerably long; I was thinking so of vague, of inconceivable yet inevitable Porterfield, and of my having to face him somehow on the morrow. Now of course I knew why she had asked me if I should recognise him; she had delegated to me mentally a certain pleasant office. I gave Mrs. Peck and Mrs. Gotch a wide berth I couldn't talk to them.
"Well, you wouldn't know if I hadn't told you from the way she acts," said our friend with a laugh of small charm. "She's going out to a gentleman who lives over there he's waiting there to marry her," the other lady went on, in the tone of authentic information. I remember that her name was Mrs. Gotch and that her mouth looked always as if she were whistling.
And when, while the rest were washing for supper, disposing of war sacks, or "making down" blankets, Mat squatted in the chimney corner to read his letters, Lee Skeats impressively whispered to Priest: "Ben, I jest nachally hope never to cock another gun ef that thar little ol' Circuit hain't got a gal that's stuck to him tighter'n a tick makin' a gotch ear, or that ain't got airy damn thing to do to hum but write letters.
As the inner side of a horse's ear is both warm and tender, that organ was frequently infested with this pest, whose ravages often undermined the supporting cartilages and produced the drooping or "gotch" ear. In my remuda over one half the horses were afflicted with ticks, and many of them it was impossible to bridle, owing to the inflamed condition of their ears.
"He'd look queer if he knew." "Well, I guess he'll know," said Mrs. Gotch. "She'd tell him herself she wouldn't be afraid," the gentleman went on. "Well she might as well kill him. He'll jump overboard," Mrs. Peck could foretell. "Jump overboard?" cried Mrs. Gotch as if she hoped then that Mr. Porterfield would be told. "He has just been waiting for this for long, long years," said Mrs. Peck.
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