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Updated: June 12, 2025
The voice, though creaking in tone and uttering borrowed words, impressed many among its audience with its accent of personal sincerity. Mrs Polsue knelt and listened with a gathering choler. This Hambly had no unction. He could never improve an occasion: the more opportunity it gave the more helplessly he fell back upon old formulae composed by Anglicans long ago.
"I want you to make me a couple of skivers," she said. "Aun' Hambly sent over word she'd a brace o' chicken for me to sell, an' I was to call for 'em: an' I'd be ashamed to sell a fowl the way she skivers it." William set down his plane, picked up an odd scrap of wood and cut out the skewers with his pocket-knife; while Naomi watched with a smile on her face.
"If builder Gilbert is right," put in Miss Oliver with a sigh of envy, "I shall be able to see the Bank as well as you, when that house comes down: and I shan't want to use spectacles neither." She cut in with this stroke as the pair joined the small throng of worshippers entering the Chapel porch. The Minister, Mr Hambly, gave his congregation a very short service that morning.
Because if things are done that you don't approve of, either you sit mum-chance out o' politeness, or else you speak your mind and offend your host and hostess." Mr Hambly was about to interpose, but the Vicar checked him with a quick movement of his hand. "Mrs Polsue's is a real point; and, if she will allow me to say so, she has put it very well.
"But, my good man since you say that you have taken Mr Hambly into your confidence " "Well, sir?" "Oh, well you will be back, doubtless, in a few days' time; and then we can talk. This this is very er honest of you." "It may be. As for bein' back in a few days' time, if the War should be over in a few days' time you may expect me. I hope it won't.
There are other ways in which we can be useful And I take it for granted that all of us women, who cannot fight, are longing to be useful in some way or other. . . . There is the working of socks, scarves, waistcoats, for instance; the tearing and rolling of bandages; and Dr Mant, who has so kindly driven over from St Martin's, tells me that he is ready to be kinder still and teach an Ambulance Class. . . . But our first business as he and Mr Hambly agree is to make sure that the wives and children of our reservists want neither food nor money to pay their rent. . . . They tell me that in a few weeks the Soldiers' and Sailors' Families Association will be ready to take much of this work off our hands, though acting through local distributors.
Well, Mr Hambly, sir, I don't know how it strikes you, but I'm sick an' tired of them dismal blackguards." "I can't bear it," said Mrs Steele, walking to and fro in her drawing-room. She ceased wringing her handkerchief, and came to a halt confronting the Vicar, who stood moodily leaning an arm on the mantelshelf.
"Hullo! Tut tut what is this?" exclaimed Mr Hambly. "A neighbours' quarrel, and between folks I know to be so respectworthy? . . . Oh, come now come, good souls!" "A little nigher than naybours, Minister," put in Mrs Climoe. "That is if you had eyes an' ears in your head." Nicky-Nan swung about on her: but she rested a hand on either hip and was continuing. "'Naybours, you said, sir?
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