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Updated: June 7, 2025
Gunnill pressing the point, however, she arose and began to set the table, the undue care with which she smoothed out the creases of the table-cloth, and the mathematical exactness with which she placed the various articles, all being so many extra smarts in his wound. When she finally placed on the table enough food for a dozen people he began to show signs of a little spirit.
"How foolish of you to run such a risk!" said Selina. "I brought it for Miss Gunnill," said the young man, simply. He unfastened the parcel, and to the astonishment of all present revealed a policeman's helmet and a short boxwood truncheon. "You you're a wonder," said the gloating Mr. Gunnill. "Look at it, Ted!" Mr. Drill was looking at it; it may be doubted whether the head of Mr.
Gunnill smiled broadly as he met their astonished gaze, and with a final bound kicked something along the floor and subsided into his seat panting. Mr. Sims, suddenly enlightened, uttered a cry of dismay and, darting under the table, picked up what had once been a policeman's helmet.
Cooper, instead o' putting it about that she looked young enough to be his mother, it wouldn't have happened." His daughter shook her head impatiently and, on Mr. Gunnill making an allusion to breakfast, expressed surprise that he had got the heart to eat any-thing. Mr.
Gunnill, but it was chased away almost immediately by Sims reminding him of the chaff of Cooper's brother-constables. "And you might take the others away," said Mr. Gunnill, brightening; "you might keep on doing it." Mr. Sims said doubtfully that he might, but pointed out that Cooper would probably be on his guard for the future.
"Ain't you going to have any?" he demanded, as Miss Gunnill resumed her seat by the window. "Me?" said the girl, with a shudder. "Breakfast? The disgrace is breakfast enough for me. I couldn't eat a morsel; it would choke me." Mr. Gunnill eyed her over the rim of his teacup. "I come down an hour ago," he said, casually, as he helped himself to some bacon. Miss Gunnill started despite herself.
Gunnill and Jenkins, left behind in the living-room, sought for some neutral topic of discourse, but in vain; conversation would revolve round hard labour and lost pensions. From the kitchen came sounds of hammering, then a loud "Ooh!" from Miss Gunnill, followed by a burst of laughter and a clapping of hands. Mr. Jenkins shifted in his seat and exchanged glances with Mr. Gunnill.
Drill had just plucked up sufficient courage to take her hand when footsteps stopped at the house, the handle of the door was turned, and, for the second time that evening, the inflamed visage of Mr. Jenkins confronted the company. "Don't tell me it's a failure," said Mr. Gunnill, starting from his chair. "You must have been handling it roughly. It was as good as new when you took it away." Mr.
He reached down as though to take up the carpet-bag which he had placed by the side of his chair, and then, apparently thinking better of it, leaned back in his seat and eyed Mr. Gunnill. "Do you mean to tell me," said the latter, "that he's been and upset the wrong man?" Mr. Drill shook his head. "That's the puzzle," he said, softly.
"Never mind about deceiving," interrupted the constable. "What are you going to do about it?" "What are you?" inquired Mr. Gunnill, hardily. "It seems to me it's between you and him; you'll very likely be dismissed from the force, and all through trying to deceive. I wash my hands of it."
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