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Updated: May 24, 2025
For many weeks the first thing that visitors to the Brown household saw was a little tuft of Jumble's hair adorning the front gate. William then proceeded to "help" to the utmost of his power. He stumbled up from the van to the house staggering under the weight of a medicine cupboard, and leaving a trail of broken bottles and little pools of medicine behind.
They did not know William. It was growing dusk when Mrs. Brown and Ethel and the second van load appeared. "What is that on the gate?" said Ethel, stooping to examine the part of Jumble's coat that brightened up the dulness of the black paint. "It's that dog!" she said. Then came a ghost-like cry, apparently from the heavens. "Mother!" Mrs. Brown raised a startled countenance to the skies.
Thus determined, he set on foot an inquiry into the particulars of Jumble's parentage and education. He learnt that the father of this insolent tutor was a brick-layer, that his mother sold pies, and that the son, in different periods of his youth, had amused himself in both occupations, before he converted his views to the study of learning.
This was one of the many unpleasant things that William brought into Jumble's life. It was only his intense love for William that reconciled him to his existence. Jumble was one of the very few beings who appreciated William. The house on the other side was a much smaller one, and was occupied by Mr. Gregorius Lambkin. Mr. Gregorius Lambkin was a very shy and rather elderly bachelor.
Jumble's coat was covered with little pieces of horsehair, as though from the interior of a chair. William's jersey was torn from shoulder to hem. He looked stern and indignant. "A nice thing to do!" he began bitterly. "Shuttin' me up in that ole van. How d'you expect me to breathe, shut in with ole bits of furniture. Folks can't live without air, can they? A nice thing if you'd found me dead!"
It's all right, Jumble's only bit one end of it. And that's only jam what dropped on it. Well, it'll wash, won't it? Well, I've said I'm sorry. "I don't get much thanks," William continued bitterly. "Me givin' up my half holiday to helpin' you removin', an' I don't get much thanks!" "Well, William," said Mrs. Brown, "you can go to the new house with the first van.
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