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Instead he took Mrs. Grumble's hand in both of his. "Are you going to leave me, dear friend?" he asked. Mrs. Grumble smiled; then she gave a sigh. "Look what you called me," she said. And they were both silent, thinking of the past together. In the distance the crisp footsteps of Mrs. Wicket died away down the hill.
We've been found to be the greatest gentlefolk in the whole county reaching all back long before Oliver Grumble's time to the days of the Pagan Turks with monuments, and vaults, and crests, and 'scutcheons, and the Lord knows what all. In Saint Charles's days we was made Knights o' the Royal Oak, our real name being d'Urberville! ... Don't that make your bosom plim?
On the Saturday morning, when the case was still going on, to the great detriment of Baron Grumble's domestic happiness, Glump had not yet been caught. It seemed that the man had no wife, no relative, no friend. The woman at whose house he lodged declared that he often went and came after this fashion.
"Take the child home," he said. Then with timid, hesitant steps, he approached Mrs. Grumble's bed. "You've been a long time coming," she said. "I'm tired." "I'm here now," replied Mr. Jeminy; "I am not going away any more." "No," said Mrs. Grumble, "you'd better stay home and attend to things. I won't be here much longer." Mr. Jeminy wanted to say "nonsense," but he was unable to speak.
Wicket's a capable woman in things like that. Capabler than Miss Beal. There was no one else ever made me so comfortable. I have to say that about her; Mrs. Grumble's getting the best of care. And I'm looking after Juliet. Not that she's any trouble; she's as quiet as a mouse, playing all day long with her dolls." But Mrs. Ploughman could not find it in her heart to forgive Mrs.
Grumble might have croup. But Mrs. Ploughman, who sat on the porch with Mrs. Tomkins, knew that Mrs. Grumble had pneumonia. "Got," she explained, "by setting up that night, when Mr. Jeminy never came home." "No," said Mrs. Tomkins, "he never came home. If it had been me, in Mrs. Grumble's place, I'd have gone to bed, instead of parading around with a lantern all night, catching my death." "Mr.
"The house is dark, as you can see, You'll have to come and visit me." So, they went on through the woods to Grandpa Grumble's house; for, sure enough, Bunny and Susan had gone to bed and turned out all the lights. When they got to Grandpa Grumble's house a fire was burning merrily on the hearth, and they went up and warmed their paws. Tippy Toes danced up and down before the mirror and cried,
Wicket for having been the cause of her grandson Noel's death. "Yes," she said, "I expect Mrs. Grumble's getting good care. But when a body's dying, 'tisn't so much care you want, as salvation. I wouldn't want any Jezebel hanging over my deathbed, Mrs. Tomkins, thank you." Mrs. Tomkins, who attended each Sunday the little Baptist church at Adams' Forge, did not believe that she and Mrs.
But you must do better than I did, and those with whom I quarreled. To youth is given the burden and the pain. Only the old are happy to-day. "Children, children, what will become of you?" When Mr. Jeminy, with Juliet in his arms, strode in through Mrs. Grumble's door, Mrs. Wicket rose to her feet, her hands pressed to her bosom with delight and alarm. Mr. Jeminy gave Juliet to her mother.
"Does he live hereabouts?" asked the farmer. "He used to," said Juliet, "but he ran away. Now Mrs. Grumble's sick, he ought to come home again, and ease her last hours." The farmer began to chuckle. "What's the old gaffer's name?" "Mr. Jeminy," said Juliet. "Hop in," said the farmer. "I'll take you along. He's been stopping with Aaron Bade, over to the Forge. I declare, if that don't beat all.
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