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Updated: May 4, 2025
Fire!" screamed a female voice, one afternoon. The screamer was Miss Persnips. "Where, where?" shouted Simes Badger. "O, there, there! I know it must be," was the answer. That was all Simes wanted, and especially as Mr. Walton was holding a service at St. John's. If Simes could excite a neighborhood, and also create a sensation in church, he was happy.
"Miss Persnips, excuse me," said the foreman of the "Torrent," the great rival of the "Cataract," "but unless you withdraw, we shall be obliged to wash you out of the way with the hose. Play away, Three!" he roared. "O, massy!" screamed the shop-keeper, retiring to a safe place. Will Somers went back to his place at the brakes of the "Cataract."
And then it did seem as if the company all took a fiendish delight in going "like mad" by the homes of old women and all single ladies like Miss Persnips, tossing their red helmets I omitted this essential piece of property directing at the windows defiant glances, and all the while their sharp, cracked engine-bell went up and down, over and over, as if it were an insane acrobat. "Fire!
It was a box covered with white cloth, a piece of workmanship at which Charlie had been secretly tinkering for two days. It was labeled "A Distant Cousin of the White Elephant of Siam. Price to see, three cents, and don't tell when you've seen it." This attracted great attention. "Miss Persnips," said Charlie to the shopkeeper, who came to patronize the sale, "do you want to see my maginary?
This was agreeable to the club, whose members now separated to their homes. "Aunt Stanshy," said Charlie, that night, "do you know where my rabbit is?" "I don't know. Now I told you, when Miss Persnips came down here, that thing in her arms, and she smilin' and blinkin', as if she had an armful of gold, that she was givin' you an elephant rather than a rabbit.
"Yes, here I am, and if some of you good people will carry these boys home, the rest of us will soak down those tenement houses opposite the mill and see if we can't save them." "The dear man! So disinterested, and before he had got his face washed," said Miss Persnips, pressing nearer to gain a better look at the object of her admiration.
Dirty work at fires." "Why, Mr. Walton, is this you? What a 'ero! Did you save one of them boys?" squeaked Miss Persnips to Will's companion. The minister's face was not very clean after his fight with the sooty enemy, but as Will thought, "Love sees through all disguises."
He had also given powders to make poor Miss Persnips sleep quietly. She was sick with a nervous fever. Will now closed the store, turned the key in the lock, and went up the street, whistling "The Star-Spangled Banner." It was half after ten. One by one the house-lamps had been extinguished, and it was "dark as a pocket" in the lane. Still whistling, Will neared Aunt Stanshy's.
"Where is the fire, Simes?" the bell-ringer was asked as the engine rattled toward the church-door. "Miss Persnips!" Simes meant not the place of the fire, but the source of the information. "Miss Persnips's house is afire!" shouted the engine-men. It was enough.
Wimmin folks, in them days, were not like Miss Persnips, that keeps the little thread-and-needle store on the corner, without any snap to 'em. My great-great-grandmother just tore round that room at a lively rate. She slammed the shutters, she banged about the chairs. Then she pretended that there were lots of men-folks in the house, and she kept calling to Tom, Bill, Jerry, Nehemiah.
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