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Updated: May 15, 2025
Watchorn, with a chuck of his fringed chin, 'it generally is a thaw everywhere but where hounds meet. 'My Uncle Jollyboy wouldn't be stopped by such a frost as this, observed Cheek. ''Deed, sir, 'deed, replied Watchorn, 'your Uncle Jellyboy's a very fine feller, I dare say very fine feller; no such conjurers in these parts as he is.
"But, my aunt," said Martin, anxiously; "you have said nothing about Aunt Dorothy. How is she? where is she? is she well?" To these questions Mr Jollyboy returned no answer, but sitting suddenly down on a chair, he covered his face with his hands. "She is not ill?" inquired Martin in a husky voice, while his heart beat violently. "Speak, Mr Jollyboy, is she is she "
Arthur Jollyboy, Esquire, of the Old Hulk, sat on the top of a tall three-legged stool in his own snug little office in the sea-port town of Bilton, with his legs swinging to and fro; his socks displayed a considerable way above the tops of his gaiters; his hands thrust deep into his breeches pockets; his spectacles high on his bald forehead, and his eyes looking through the open letter that lay before him; through the desk underneath it; through the plank floor, cellars and foundations of the edifice; and through the entire world into the distant future beyond.
As for old Aunt Dorothy Grumbit, she listened when Martin spoke. When Martin was silent she became stone deaf! In the course of time Mr. Jollyboy made Martin his head clerk; and then, becoming impatient, he made him his partner off-hand.
Then he would run home in eager haste, and find old Mrs Grumbit hard at the one thousand nine hundred and ninety-ninth pair of worsted socks; and fat Mr Arthur Jollyboy sitting opposite to her, dressed in the old lady's bed-curtain chintz and high-crowned cap, with the white kitten in his arms and his spectacles on his chin, watching the process with intense interest and cautioning her not to forget the "hitch" by any means; whereupon the kitten would fly up in his face, and Mr Jollyboy would dash through the window with a loud howl, and Mrs Grumbit's face would turn blue; and, uncoiling an enormous tail, she would bound shrieking after him in among the trees and disappear!
"Martin?" exclaimed the puzzled old gentleman, seizing the young sailor by the shoulders and gazing intently into his face. "Martin! Martin! Surely not yes! eh! Martin Rattler?" "Ay that am I, dear Mr Jollyboy, safe and sound, and "
Four thousand! dear me who will make them. Do you know?" This question was addressed to his youngest clerk, who sat on the opposite side of the desk staring at Mr Jollyboy with that open impudence of expression peculiar to young puppy-dogs whose masters are unusually indulgent. "No, sir, I don't," said the clerk with a broad grin.
Ah! reader, there are many Mrs Grumbits in this world, requiring hitches to be made in their stockings! At this moment the door burst open. Mrs Dorothy Grumbit uttered a piercing scream, Mr Jollyboy dropped his spectacles and sat down on his hat and Martin Rattler stood before them with the white kitten in his arms.
When he had finished, Mr Jollyboy shook hands with him, and said he was a trump, at the same time recommending him to go and wash his face.
Yes, to the unutterable joy of Martin, to the inexpressible delight of Mr Arthur Jollyboy and Barney, and to the surprise and complete discomfiture of the young doctor who shook his head and said, "There is no hope," Aunt Dorothy Grumbit recovered, and was brought back in health and in triumph to her old cottage at Ashford.
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