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Updated: May 16, 2025
"It don't affect 'er appetite," ses George Hatchard, trying to make things pleasant, "and that's the main thing." Mrs. Morgan got up to go, but arter George Hatchard 'ad explained wot he didn't mean she sat down agin and began to talk to Mrs. Pearce about 'er dress and 'ow beautifully it was made. And she asked Mrs.
They 'ad a game o' cards arter supper, counting twenty nuts as a penny, and everybody got more cheerful. They was all laughing and talking, and Joe Morgan was pretending to steal Mrs. Pearce's nuts, when George Hatchard held up his 'and. "Somebody at the street door, I think," he ses. Young Alf got up to open it, and they 'eard a man's voice in the passage asking whether Mrs.
Then she heard him coming slowly back along the passage. He entered the room, drying his wet hair on a hand-kerchief. "I I hope I didn't hurt you much?" said his wife. Mr. Hatchard drew himself up and regarded her with lofty indignation. "You might have killed me," he said at last, in thrilling tones. "Then what would you have done?"
Upstairs a small bright fire and a neatly laid supper-table awaited his arrival. He sank into an easy-chair and rubbed his hands. Then his gaze fell on a small bell on the table, and opening the door he rang for supper. "Yes, sir," said Mrs. Hatchard, entering the room. "Supper, please," said the new lodger, with dignity. Mrs. Hatchard looked bewildered.
"I can't think where you got it all from." "Got it all from?" ses Bill, staring at her. "Why, from 'im." "Oh, of course," ses Mrs. Pearce. "I didn't think of that; but that only makes it the more wonderful, doesn't it? because, you see, he didn't go on the Evening Star." "Wot?" ses George Hatchard. "Why you told me yourself " "I know I did," ses Mrs.
Hatchard got out of bed and striking a match lit the candle, and, taking his overcoat from a peg behind the door, put it on and marched downstairs. Mrs. Hatchard, still trembling, followed behind. "What's all this?" he demanded, throwing the door open with a flourish. Mr. Sadler, still holding the fire-shovel sceptre-fashion and still with the paper cap on his head, opened his mouth to reply.
"How I hate everything!" she murmured. The young man had passed through the Hatchard gate, and she had the street to herself. North Dormer is at all times an empty place, and at three o'clock on a June afternoon its few able-bodied men are off in the fields or woods, and the women indoors, engaged in languid household drudgery.
But if I find that it is neglected in any way, I shall send it back at once to Farmer Hatchard. Is that a bargain?" "Oh, yes, indeed," cried the delighted David; and he ran out to tell the result of his interview to the anxious children waiting outside the study door.
"I called," said Mr. Hatchard, clearing his throat "I called about the bill in the window." Mrs. Hatchard clutched at the door-post. "Well?" she gasped. "I'd like to see the rooms," said the other. "But you ain't a single young man," said his wife, recovering. "I'm as good as single," said Mr. Hatchard. "I should say, better." "You ain't young," objected Mrs. Hatchard.
"See here," he said, "why ain't you at the library the days you're supposed to be there?" The question, breaking in on her mood of blissful abstraction, deprived her of speech, and she stared at him for a moment without answering. "Who says I ain't?" "There's been some complaints made, it appears. Miss Hatchard sent for me this morning " Charity's smouldering resentment broke into a blaze.
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