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Updated: June 16, 2025
Conditions certainly had improved wonderfully, and for the time being Dave forgot his trouble with Aaron Poole. No one could again call him "a poorhouse nobody." From the cottage the boys walked to the barn. As they entered this building they heard earnest talking in the rear. "You are a mean lad, to tease an old man like me!" they heard, in Caspar Potts's quavering tones.
"It isn't cold that starts that kind of pain." "No, siree. I'm not much of a doctor, but I can see Potts's rheumatism doesn't depend on the weather." "Never you mind Potts." "I don't mind Potts. I only mind Mac. What's the matter with Mac, anyway?" "Oh, he's just got cold feet. Maybe he'll thaw out by-and-by." "Did you ever think what Mac's like?
Potts's hearing was not addressed; nor was the chief person in the meditation affected by a question that merely jumped out of his perturbed interior. Business at Calesford kept Fleetwood hanging about London several days further; and his hatred of a place he wasted time and money to decorate grew immeasurable.
It struck me that the crew was a small one, but I thought the captain knew his business better than I, and so I gave myself no concern. "After we embarked Potts's manner changed very greatly. I remember this now, though I did not notice it at the time, for I was almost in a kind of stupor. He was particularly insolent to Uracao.
Potts; they were an innocent, an ingrained illusion of the good lady's, but to-day they seemed less innocent and more irritating than usual. Imogen felt that she could have boxed Mrs. Potts's silly ears.
"Tiresome woman!" she thought, but she couldn't help smiling while she thought it, and heard Mrs. Potts's deep breath laboring up behind her. It was, perhaps, rather a shame to balk her in this way; but, after all, she was to have a full fortnight of Sir Basil and she, Imogen, felt that on this day, the day of a new friendship, Sir Basil's claim on her was paramount.
"I have just come from China," said I, "and my father told me to find Mrs. Compton." He looked at me for some time without speaking a word. I began to think that he was imbecile. "So you are Mr. Potts's daughter," said he at last, in a thin, weak voice. "I I didn't know that you had come I I knew that he was expecting you but heard you were lost at sea Mrs.
Turning, therefore, suddenly to the right, she led them into a steep and rocky path that, as she well knew, would eventually prove impassable to Mrs. Potts's short legs and stiff, fat person. Indeed, Mrs. Potts soon began to pant and sigh.
POTTS'S last year of mental disorder by Mr. DROOD, an old partner in the grocery business, who, too, was a widower from his wife's use of arsenic and lead for her complexion.
One day the idea came into my head to extend my ramble into the country outside, in order to get a wider view. I went to the gate. The porter came out and asked what I wanted. I told him. "You can't go out," said he, rudely. "Why not?" "Oh, them's Potts's orders that's enough, I think." "He never said so to me," I replied, mildly.
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