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Updated: May 5, 2025
We'll talk it all over by your fire, eh?" "Of course. There'll be that much left, anyhow. Is this over? Thank you, Jimps, for the best dance I've had to-night." "No use trying it on me," he murmured as he released her. "What's the use of capturing what you've already got?"
And mind you your Uncle Jimps is coming over evenings just as often as and a little oftener than if you didn't have this literary light burning on your hearthstone. See?" He went away, his thick fair hair, uncapped, shining in the morning sunlight, his arm waving a friendly farewell back at the window, where a white cloth flapped in reply.
And so soon they will be gone, and nothing for the hungry youth but plain bread and butter. How absurd of you to complain!" "Bread and butter! Beefsteak and mushrooms, you mean; roast turkey and cranberry sauce! A fellow can live on them. But not on eternal honey and fudge with my apologies to the lady." "I should say so, Jimps. You're outrageous, and you don't mean it.
"Jimps, I'm perfectly contented," she said radiantly, as they walked on. "That's good. I wish I were." "What would make you?" "Your promise to earn your money making rugs with me to help you." "But you couldn't!" "I could learn." "Oh, how absurd! You haven't time, if there were no other reason."
His voice was eager. "Not if you don't want to, Jimps." "I don't. There was never anything surer than that. Give me your hand chum." She gave it. "All right chum." He had pulled off his own glove; he now gently drew off hers, and the two warm hands clasped. "Here's our everlasting friendship," he said, with a little thrill in his low voice. "Nothing shall come between us except love." "Jimps!
Great size in a flower never appealed to me anyhow. I like a blossom that stands straight and firm upon its stem, that gives forth a clean, spicy fragrance and doesn't wilt when it has been an hour in my buttonhole." "That's the sort Jimps wants, I'm sure. He used to be always tucking one of his scarlet geranium blossoms into his coat when he came over to see me.
"Well, I mean, you know, he doesn't look like an ink-slinger; he looks like some sort of a doer. He hasn't that dreamy expression. He sees with both eyes at once. In other words, he seems to be all there." "Your idea of literary men is a disgrace to your education, Jimps. Think of the author-soldiers and author-engineers and author-Presidents of the United States," she ended triumphantly.
In Jeannette's room by a blazing fire the girls held brief session, sitting with unbound hair and swinging slippered feet, and cheeks still flushed with the night's gayety. "Jimps and I were imagining ourselves sitting by the fire in our old living-room to-morrow night," said Georgiana softly, staring into the flame with eyes which reflected little points of light.
"George, there's no use trying to tell you how I feel about this. All I can say is that nothing's too good for you or for him. That's pretty lame, but whatever eloquence I'm capable of is tied up somewhere; I can't get it out." "It's out, Jimps, dear," she assured him. "Isn't it Jefferson?" "It certainly is Jimps," Craig answered heartily. "It was for just that genuine feeling that I sent for you.
She sent her love with it and I can tell you that's pretty valuable." "Of course it is! Jimps, I'm so pleased, so wonderfully pleased that you are here I can't tell you!" "Then, why in the name of old friendship didn't you send for me?" Stuart demanded, for plainly this still rankled. "Evidently Doctor Craig had more belief in that than you did."
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