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Updated: June 4, 2025
Clatworthy and his patients were enjoying their mud-baths in the garden, up at Hi-jeen Villa, and the doctor had just begun to think about getting his water-douche and dressing himself to keep his appointment with Miss Sophia and the rest of the young ladies, when the back-door opened and what should he see entering the garden but Mr. Jope, with all his bedizened company!
Jope sprang in beside me, and leaning out of the farther window, waved his neckerchief for a while, then pensively readjusted it, and called to the driver "St. Budeaux!" The driver, after a moment, turned heavily in his seat, and answered, "Nonsense!" "I tell ye, I want to drive to St. Budeaux, by Saltash Ferry." "And I tell you, 'Get out! St. Budeaux? The idea!" "Why, what's wrong with St.
"Well, I'm married to her, any way." "Monstrous fine woman," Mr. Jope observed cheerfully. "Ay; she's all that. It seems like a dream. You'd best step on board: the ladder's on t'other side." As we passed under the vessel's stern I looked up and read her name Glad Tidings, Port of Fowey. "I've a-broken it to her," our host announced, meeting us at the top of the ladder.
"But what are we to do with it?" asked Mr. Jope, scratching his head in perplexity. "Drink it. Wot else?" "But where?" "Oh," said Mr. Adams, "anywhere!" "That's all very well," replied his friend. "You never had no property, an' don't know its burdens. We'll have to hire a house for this, an' live there till it's finished." St. Dilp by Tamar has altered little in a hundred years.
Adams struck his shin against some obstacle and pitched headlong into darkness a howl of pain blent with a dull jarring rumble. Silence followed, and out of the silence broke a faint groan. "Bill! Bill Adams! Oh, Bill, for the Lord's sake !" Still mechanically shielding his candle, Mr. Jope staggered back a pace, and leaned against the stone door-jamb for support.
'Aw, that's easy, he says " 'Sojer, sojer, Diddy, diddy, dodger! "'Now hand me over the money, he says. I could have slapped his ear." Almost as he ended his simple story, the procession came to a halt: the strains of Tom Bowling changed into noisy and, on the part of the ladies, very unladylike expostulations. Mr. Jope started forward and leaned out of the window. "I think," said the Rev. Mr.
His face was pale, and for the moment all the aggressiveness had gone out of him. He lifted a hand weakly to his heart. "A sudden faintness," he groaned, closing his eyes. "If you two men had any feelin's, you'd offer to see me home." "The pair of us?" asked Mr. Jope suavely. "I scale over seventeen stone," murmured Mr. Coyne, still with his eyes closed; "an' a weight like that is no joke." Mr.
"Bill's launched, anyhow." "Shipmate?" asked the clergyman. "Messmate," answered Mr. Jope; and, opening his mouth, pointed down it with his forefinger. "Not that a better fellow ever lived." "I can quite believe it," said Mr. Whitmore sympathetically. He had a pleasant voice, but somehow I did not want to catch his eye. Instead I kept my gaze fastened upon the knees of his well-fitting pantaloons.
At Symonds's they gave no utterance to this reflection, but each knew it to be in the other's mind at Symonds's just now there would be a boiled leg of mutton with turnips, and the rum would be hot, with a slice of lemon. "We shall get accustomed," said Mr. Jope with a forced air of cheerfulness. Mr. Adams glanced over his shoulder at the statuary and answered "yes" in a loud unfaltering voice.
Jope is engaged, I see, in an altercation with the toll-keeper. He seems a good-natured fellow. Of course, if by ill-luck they trace me out, to question me, I shall be obliged to tell what I know. It amounts to very little: still I have no wish to tell it. One word more: get a wash as soon as you can, and by some means acquire a clean suit of clothes.
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