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Updated: May 13, 2025
He was made that way. The Easter term had been one of unadulterated discomfort for Jim Cotton. He had felt the loss of Gus's helping hand terribly, and he had not yet found another ass to "devil" for him in the way of classics or mathematics.
"Ma'am, Gus's father's a leatherseller in Skinner Street, Snow Hill, a very respectable house, ma'am. But Gus is only third son, and so can't expect a great share in the property." The two young ladies smiled at this the old lady said, "Hwat?" "I like you, sir," Lady Jane said, "for not being ashamed of your friends, whatever their rank of life may be.
And now Mephistopheles Van Dam easily induces him to seek to drag down beautiful Edith Allen, the woman he had meant to marry, to a life compared with which the city gutters are cleanly. Van Dam in slippers and silken robe was smoking his meerschaum after a late breakfast and reading a French novel. "What is the matter?" he said, noting Gus's expression of ennui and discontent.
"I've been setting down and adding up what we all bring in each week. Ma's washings, the Boarder's board, my studio work, Flamingus' and Milt's wages, Gus's cow, Bud's singing, Co's dish-washing, and Bobby's papers. What do you suppose it all amounts to?" She allowed a few seconds of tragic silence to ensue before she gave the electrifying total. "Land sakes! Who'd 'a thought it!" exclaimed Mrs.
There was some one else who eyed this plain manifesto of Gus's position with anger, and that was the Rev. E. Taylor himself. The house-master had not been a house-master for years for nothing, and he guessed pretty shrewdly that some one was writing off a debt with interest against Gus.
You should have seen Gus's head peeping out of window in his white nightcap! He kept me up the whole night telling him about the ball, and the great people I had seen there; and next day he told at the office my stories, with his own usual embroideries upon them. "Mr. Titmarsh," said Lady Fanny, laughing to me, "who is that great fat curious man, the master of the house?
For Todd had taken his precautions. His watch a gold one, "jewelled in numberless holes," as its owner pathetically remarked had been left with the family jeweller for three bright golden sovereigns, an eight-and-six brass turnip, which went jolly well, although its tick was a trifle vigorous under Gus's pillow, and an agreement.
For Jim had remarked Gus's sprightliness in the Greek ordeal, but was not clever enough to see that Gus's performance had been only for old friendship's sake. Jim, however, put down Todd's device as mere "side," "show-off," "toadyism," and other choice things, all trotted out specially for his eyes.
But one big raw-boned fellow, who looked equal to any amount of corn-whiskey or anything else, could not swallow Gus's insolence, and stepped up saying: "Look here, Cap'n, I'm ready enough to drink with a chap when he asks me like a gentleman, but I feel more like puttin' a head on you than drinkin' with yer." Gus had the false courage of wine and prided himself on his boxing.
She relied more on crowding in among the other horses than in running free, and therefore she was hard to get out into the open. Blinky's mount went lame; Gus's grew so weary that he could not keep up; but Pan's Sorrel showed wonderful powers of endurance. In fact he got better all the time. It began to dawn upon Pan what a treasure he had in Sorrel.
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