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Updated: June 29, 2025
Poor Orlando Crump had found me out by this time, and was standing by my side, listening, as melancholy as possible, to the famous Bohemian Minnesingers, who were singing the celebrated words of the poet Gothy: "Ich bin ya hupp lily lee, du bist ya hupp lily lee. Wir sind doch hupp lily lee, hupp la lily lee." "Chorus Yodle-odle-odle-odle-odle-odle hupp! yodle-odle-aw-o-o-o!"
"No, she ain't no good at all," was reiterated in the stormy young voice as Henrietta caught hold of the nose of the panting Hupp and stood directly in the path of destruction, if Polk had turned the driving wheel a hair's breadth.
The severe little man was mitigated, and condescended to say, "Rab, ma man puir Rabbie," whereupon the stump of a tail rose up, the ears were cocked, the eyes filled and were comforted; the two friends were reconciled. "Hupp!" and a stroke of the whip were given to Jess, and off went the three.
I'll talk to you in a minute, young man that is " he turned quickly upon Berg "if that isn't against your crazy principles, too?" "Why, not at all," Bartholomew Berg assured him. "Not at all. You do me an injustice." Griebler moved up closer to the broad table. The two fell into a low-voiced talk. Jock looked rather helplessly around at Sam Hupp.
And with such malicious humor does Fate work her will that she chose Sam Hupp's new dictagraph as the instrument with which to prick the bubble of Mrs. McChesney's self-confidence. Sam Hupp, one of the copy-writing marvels of the Berg, Shriner firm, had a trick of forgetting to shut off certain necessary currents when he paused in his dictation to throw in conversational asides.
The old and experienced stenographers, had learned to look out for that, and to eliminate from their typewritten letters certain irrelevant and sometimes irreverent asides which Sam Hupp evidently had addressed to his pipe, or the office boy, and not intended for the tube of the all-devouring dictagraph.
Hupp was in attending some conference in the Old Man's office, of course. He wished they'd hurry. The business of the week was being boiled-down there. Those conferences were great cauldrons into which the day's business, or the week's, was dumped, to be boiled, simmered, stirred, skimmed, cooled. Jock had never been privileged to attend one of these meetings.
From thence the coast trendeth foure leagues to the West 1/4 to the Northwest vnto the Isle Hupp, which is twentie leagues in circuit, and is like the edge of a knife: vpon it there is neither wood nor grasse: there are Morses vpon it, but they bee hard to be taken.
Polk didn't look at me even once as I helped pack them and their traps into his Hupp, but Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like Polk in his white flannels, and he and Jane made a picture of perfectly blended tailored smartness as they got ready for the break-away.
Perhaps by this time next week he might have a spoon in the stirring too There came the murmur of voices as a door was opened. The voices came nearer. Then quick footsteps. Jock recognized them. He rose, smiling. Sam Hupp, vibrating electric energy, breezed in. "Oh hello!" he said, surprised. Jock's smile widened to a grin. "You back?" "Hello, Hupp," he said, coolly.
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