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Updated: May 22, 2025
The young captain told the story himself and his family enjoyed it, evidently admiring the Manchester lassie, who sat there as red as a poppy. They did not bend to the plumber's daughter, nor seem to try to lift her to the altars of their ancient hall. Every one met on new ground, a ground where human beings had faced death together.
The time will come it is almost here when the demand from women for the high sink we have already indicated is going to be strong enough so that the Plumber's standards for cutting pipe will be changed to meet her demand.
His four-poster, the huge couch at the foot of his bed, and all the furniture about the room, was of the Queen Anne period. The bathroom which communicated with his apartment was the latest triumph of the plumber's art a room with floor and walls of white tiles, the bath itself a little sunken and twice the ordinary size.
With him was a plumber who was dealing the cards in that leisurely manner which appears to be one of the principal charms of the plumber's vocation. A paperhanger studied the wall-paper with a professional eye while he appropriated his cards. An Alsatian completed the party.
The straw in which their contents had been wrapped littered the floor. I discerned, as my eyes got used to the gloom, a quantity of carpenters' tools near the stage, and, beside them, a confused heap of the mysterious implements of the plumber's trade. While I was looking round me and the elder Gorman was wriggling about on the floor, Tim worked the lantern behind our backs.
Ostensibly the fellow had merely stopped to light a cigarette, but while Starr watched him he struck three matches in succession, and immediately afterwards a shadow glided from the shelter of a plumber's shop opposite, slipped down to the gate that was always barred, and disappeared. Starr circled warily to the rear of the yard to see what chance there might be of getting over the wall unseen.
The bow-window had been replaced by a plumber's devanture, and one might conceive the bronze to have gravitated to the limbo where Mexican onyx tables and bric-a-brac in buffalo-horn await the first signs of our next aesthetic reaction. Eleanor swept me through a hall that smelled of poverty, up unlit stairs to a bare slit of a room.
"Oh! he'd be like a nasty oily efficient little machine for some merely subordinate necessity among all my delicate stuff. He'd do all we wanted no doubt in the way of money and powers and he'd do it wrong and mess the place for ever. Hands all black, you know. He's just a means. Just a very aggressive and unmanageable means. This isn't a plumber's job...." I stuck to my argument.
Once there, he took out his key, fitted it to the lock, opened the door, stepped quietly inside, and locked the outer door after him. Before venturing to open the inner door he pressed an ear flat against the wooden partition and stood there listening. The silence was unbroken. He stepped to the side of the shop and caught up a plumber's thick-bodied tallow candle.
And on Third Street, just around the corner from 330 Mickle Street, is the oddest plumber's shop in the world. Mr. George F. Hammond, a Civil War veteran, who knew Whitman and also Lincoln, came to Camden in '69. In 1888 he determined to build a shop that would be different from anything on earth, and well he succeeded.
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