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Updated: May 3, 2025
The Seraph cast one anguished look at his dumpling and burst into tears. We could hear his wails growing ever fainter as he plodded up the stairs. "Mary Ellen, remove that dumpling!" commanded Mrs. Handsomebody. Angel and I began to eat very fast. There was a short silence; then Mrs. Handsomebody said didactically: "The elder Mr.
We pictured the workhouse as a vast schoolroom where white-haired paupers laboured over impossible tasks, superintended by a matron, cold and angular, like Mrs. Handsomebody. "Are your own children all dead?" I put the question timidly, for I feared to recall more filial ingratitude. "Dead as door-nails," he replied, solemnly. "All of them." "Were there many?"
Far down the drab vista of the back stairs that ended in the scullery, Mary Ellen's red, round face was seen for a moment, like a second rising sun, but vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, at a shout from Mrs. Handsomebody. We were in the schoolroom now, placed before her in a row, as was her wont in times of retribution.
Truly when I think of us, as we were then, and when I remember how we came like a wild disturbing wind into that solemn house, I am inclined to pity Mrs. Handsomebody.
"I do feel far from peart," replied Granfa. "This is horrible. Did you feel it coming on?" "Off and on for a long time," said Granfa. "It's been a terr'ble experience, and I ban't likely to be ever the same again, I'm afeared." Mrs. Handsomebody looked ready to faint. At that moment, Mary Ellen, having heard the voice of her mistress, projected her face above the doorsill of the backstairs.
With sardonic laughter, we sped along the pebbled drive, nor stopped until we reached our own domain. Then in the planked back yard, we sat on our steps, with a volume of "The Quiver" on our knees, in case Mrs. Handsomebody should invade our privacy, and played a rollicking game of pirates. And when any of the fair sex fell into our hands we were none too gentle with them.
With what admiration we beheld his masterful attack on the bacon and eggs! It became awe when we saw the quantity of marmalade that he spread upon his toast. And Mrs. Handsomebody beamed fatuously at him! Between mouthfuls he talked. "Do you remember how I used to call you Wiggie? And the time I hid the white rat in your bonnet box?" Mrs. Handsomebody cackled.
"Knob-less obleedge," repeated Angel, submissively; and The Seraph also repeated it several times, as though storing it away for future use. When Mrs. Handsomebody rang the door-bell, I trembled for Mary Ellen, remembering where I had last seen her, but the admirable girl promptly opened the door to us, clad in the drabbest of her cellar-cleaning garb, a smudge of soot on her rosy cheek. Mrs.
Handsomebody kept to her room for nearly three weeks, unable to put her foot to the floor.
You must, for example, guard against imbedding the fish hook in the flesh, which is most painful, often leading to blood-poisoning. This is to say nothing of the risk in sitting on damp grass, or the stings of insects." "Did you ever sit on the sting of an insect, please?" questioned The Seraph eagerly. Mrs. Handsomebody looked at him sharply.
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