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Updated: May 21, 2025
On the next morning at breakfast, Bertram managed to separate the aunt from the niece by sitting between them. It was long, however, before Mr. M'Gabbery gave up the battle. When he found that an interloper was interfering with his peculiar property, he began to tax his conversational powers to the utmost.
"You remember, of course, that it was her key-basket?" said Miss Waddington, with a smile that made M'Gabbery clench his walking-stick in his hand. "Perfectly; because she always kept her halfpence there also. Well, there was a nursery-girl who used to be about me in those days.
"I am not sure that even Mr. M'Gabbery would admire the tents so much if he had not some Christian comforts along with him." "His brandy-flask and dressing-case, for instance," said George. "Yes; and his mattress and blankets," said Caroline. "His potted meat and preserved soup." "And especially his pot to boil his potatoes in." "That was Mr. Cruse," said Mr. M'Gabbery, quite angrily.
M'Gabbery, had specially looked to his pistols with the view of waging war on three or four supposed Bedouins who were seen to be hovering on the hill-sides. But all would not do. Miss Waddington was almost tired of Gaza and Arimathea, and Miss Baker seemed to have a decided preference for London news. So at last Mr.
"I never saw him to remember him. One doesn't count one's acquaintance before seven or eight years of age." "Your memory must be very bad, then," said Mr. M'Gabbery, "or your childhood's love for your father very slight. I perfectly remember the sweetness of my mother's caresses when I was but three years old. There is nothing, Miss Waddington, to equal the sweetness of a mother's kisses."
"I always used to catch it for scripture geography." "Yes, the mystery of your childhood will be gone, Miss Jones," said Mr. M'Gabbery, who, in his present state of hopelessness as regarded Miss Waddington, was ill-naturedly interfering with young Pott. "The mystery of your childhood will be gone; but another mystery, a more matured mystery, will be created in your imagination.
M'Gabbery, when both wet through up to their knees, should hang together in their sufferings, make common cause of it, talk each of what the other felt and understood so well?
"You don't mean to tell me you remember that?" said M'Gabbery. "Perfectly, as you do the picture-book. Well, there I was lying, Miss Baker, with my little eyes wide open. It is astonishing how much babies see, though people never calculate on their having eyes at all. I was lying on my back, staring at the mantelpiece, on which my mother had left her key-basket."
M'Gabbery would have plunged bodily beneath the wave had the wave been deep enough to receive his body. As it was, it only just came over the tops of his boots, filling them comfortably with water. "Oh, Mr. M'Gabbery!" exclaimed the ungrateful lady. "Now you have drowned me altogether."
Cruse; "my donkey is very quick;" and the clergyman mounted ready to start. "Only I shouldn't know where to find the things." "No, Mr. Cruse; and I couldn't tell you. Besides, there is nothing I like so much as wet feet, except wet strings to my hat, for which latter I have to thank Mr. M'Gabbery." "I will go, of course," said M'Gabbery, emerging slowly from the pool.
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