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Updated: June 18, 2025
Like all seamen he had no silent wits of his own, and every word he thought, that he must speak. "The guv'nor's not here," he said; "gone to 'Frisco. Lucky for you, for he don't like strangers. Aye," he goes on, "he's a wonderful man for his own way; to be sure he is. You'll be aboard and away before sunset, or you might see him. Take my advice and put about. The shore's unwholesome," says he.
It makes him a little irritable, so I don't think I'd ask him. He is enjoying the night ride, though." Sam sighed and said to himself "He says that because he wants to make the best of it, but I'm not going to believe my poor guv'nor's enjoying this. He's wishing himself back in Wimpole Street, I know." "What's that?" said Frank suddenly. "What? I see nothing." "No, no. I mean that wild cry."
"I live close by, and I thought I might as well take it, that's all." "Oh, if that's all, you can wait till the guv'nor's in." "I I mayn't be passing this way again for some time," said Horace. "Bound to be, if you live close by," and the provoking youth returned to his "Sniggers." "Do you call this attending to your master's business?" said Horace. "Listen to me, you young rascal.
He scarcely averaged two hours a day on the premises at Hanbridge. Indeed the staff there had a sense of the unusual, inciting to unusual energy and devotion, when word went round: "Guv'nor's in the office with Mr. John." The Councillor was always extremely busy with something other than his main enterprise.
"Sounds like the Guv'nor's voice." "Ah!" said the gardener. "Alf a mo'!" And, drawing in his head, Joe peered through the curtains. The bed was empty and the door open. "Watch it! 'E's loose!" he called to the gardener, and descended the stairs at a run. In fact, Mr. Lavender had come out of his coma at the words, "D'you think we can win this war?"
And there's a young fellow who's coming on now that I've seen a lot of called Lepage Bastien Lepage, who's going to be a wonder. I can tell you, sometimes when I think of the dear old Guv'nor's business, and how he had set his heart on my going into it, I can hardly believe it's true that I've been there, free to do my own work, with those men...."
He was quite shabby, and even ragged in his dress, but he was clearly a gentleman. He was no longer young; his shoulders were bent, and he had the unmistakable stamp and carriage of a student. "Guv'nor's at home," said the assistant briefly. The visitor walked into the sanctum. He had under his arm half-a-dozen volumes, which, without a word, he laid before Mr. Emblem, and untied the string.
Now this 'ere crest of the guv'nor's is a hand holding a dagger, and the hand has only got three fingers. I said as how there was two missing, and that the chap as did it couldn't have known much of his business to go and leave out two fingers.
He's got the dibs, you know; and Sissie wants the dibs even more than she wants yours truly." "Got what?" I inquired, not quite catching the phrase. "The dibs, old man; the chink; the oof; the ready rhino. He rolls in it, she says. I can't find out the chap's name, but I know his Guv'nor's something or other in the millionaire trade somewhere across in America." "She writes to you, I think?"
"Your young guv'nor's the right sort, Pottinger," he remarked as Stafford at last reluctantly tore himself away from the stables. "Give me a master as understands a horse and I don't mind working for him." Pottinger nodded and turned the straw in his mouth. "If you're alludin' to Mr. Stafford, then you'll enjoy your work, Mr. Davis; for you've got what you want.
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