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Updated: June 22, 2025
"Lily and his wife were great friends," Gertrude was saying. "She's dead, you know." "Is she," said Miriam emphatically. "She used to be always coming when I first came over, Scots wha blow got a pin, Hendy? We shan't have his... thanks, you're a saint... his boys in the schoolroom any more now."
He received Mr Pamphlett's top-hat and walking-stick, helped him off with his black frock-coat, helped him on with the light alpaca jacket in which during the hot weather Mr Pamphlett combined banking with comfort. "Business as usual!" said Mr Pamphlett, slipping into the alpaca. "That's the motto. Old England's sound, Hendy!" "Yes, sir: leastways, I hope so." "Sound as a bell.
Miss Hendy had formerly kept a school, and her portrait would have done very well for a frontispiece to Mrs Trimmer. She was what is called prim in her manner, and as delicate as an American. She always called the legs of a table its props for the word legs was highly unfeminine. She admired talent, and gave it vast quantities of tea and toast.
Mr Whalley, however, was struck with the mournful silence that followed his observation. "That was a thing as happing'd on a pole," he said. "In cooss it would be wery different on a tree because of the branches, as I think you was a-saying, Miss Hendy?" Mr Pitskiver grew desperate. "Bristles," he cried, "any thing new in sculpture?
But she thrust it out of her thoughts because she didn't think that she ever could do anything really wrong. Something pressed hard on her heart, and she grew very restless. Some impulse led her to go to the telephone and call Mrs. Hargrave on the long distance line. Mrs. Hargrave, who was very much bored by Cousin Hendy, was delighted to hear her old friend's voice. She did not let Mrs.
Mr Hendy had handed him five shillings and fourpence change with his quittance, and on his way home he made a detour to hobble into Mr Gedye's shop "S. Gedye, Ironmonger and Ship-Chandler" and purchase two staples, a hasp, and a stout padlock, with key.
"Mademoiselle told her some pretty things," laughed Gertrude. "Lily thinks we're lost souls nearly all of us." "Onny swaw, my dears, onny swaw." "It's all very well. But there's no knowing what Mademoiselle would make her believe. She'd got reams about you, Hendy nothing bad enough." "H'm," said Miriam, "I can imagine "
'Lisbeth, Gretchen... what was that lovely German name... hild... Brunhilde... Talk had begun again. Miriam hoped they had not noticed her. Her "Braten" shot up the lift. "Lauter Unsinn!" announced Clara. "We've all got to do our hair in clash... clashishsher Knoten, Hendy, all of us," said Jimmie judicially, sitting forward with her plump hands clasped on the table.
He was still conning it when the door opened, and Hendy appeared. Mr Pamphlett muttered "Consols," and refolded the newspaper hastily. "Nanjivell is here to see you, sir: at the side door. 'Says he must speak to you in private." "Oh . . . confound Nanjivell! I've had enough of that man. . . . Very well; but tell him I can't spare a moment over five minutes."
"Here, hold hard a moment Is it in Pamphlett's hand-writin' by any chance?" The question wounded Lippity-Libby's feelings, and he showed it. "As if I shouldn' ha' told you!" he protested, gently reproachful. "Nor his clerk's?" "What, Hendy? Hendy makes all his long letters straight up an' down, while these be made with loops.
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