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Updated: April 30, 2025
And rat it, Sir, how can I help it? cried O'Flaherty, relapsing into pathos. 'Help what? demanded Puddock. O'Flaherty took him by the hand, and gazing on his face with a maudlin, lacklustre tenderness, said: 'There was Cicero and Julius Cæsar, wor both as bald as that, and he thrust a shining sugar basin, bottom upward, into Puddock's face.
'Trim the devil! bawled Cluffe, to whom this order of Puddock's, it must be owned a useless piece of marinetism in their situation, was especially disgusting; and he added, looking furiously ahead ''Tisn't the boat I'd trim, I promise you: you you ridiculous murderer!
This rhapsody, delivered with the rapidity and emphasis of Puddock's earnest lisp, was accompanied with very general tokens of merriment from the company, and the priest, who half suspected him of having invented it, was on the point of falling foul of him, when Lord Castlemallard rose to take leave, and the general forthwith vacated the chair, and so the party broke up, fell into groups, and the greater part sauntered off to the Phoenix, where, in the club-room, they, with less restraint, and some new recruits, carried on the pleasures of the evening, which pleasures, as will sometimes happen, ended in something rather serious.
'I'll take that that vessel, if you please, Sir, that's hanging about your neck, said the mild and affrighted lady, meaning Puddock's guitar, through the circular orifice of which, under the chords, the water with which it was filled occasionally splashed.
'I feel, Sir, you're right; it is my fault, Sir, I've poisoned him merthiful goodneth! Puddock's address acted for a moment on O'Flaherty. He came up to him pale and queer, like a somnambulist, and shook his fingers very cordially with a very cold grasp.
Mahony, though a magnificent gentleman, was, perhaps, a little stupid, and he mistook Puddock's agitation, and thought he was in a passion, and disposed to be offensive. He, therefore, with a marked and stern sort of elegance, replied
So as Puddock's fat cheeks grew pink at sight of Miss Gertrude, all Aunt Becky's colour flushed into her face, as her keen eye pierced the unconscious lieutenant from afar off, and chin and nose high in air, her mouth just a little tucked in, as it were, at one corner a certain sign of coming storm an angry hectic in each cheek, a fierce flirt of her fan, and two or three short sniffs that betokened mischief she quickened her pace, leaving her niece a good way in the rear, in her haste to engage the enemy.
"I don't see why I mightn't have gone to service this morning, Martha. It's quite warm now out in the Close." "You'd better wait, ma'am, till the east winds is over. She was at Puddock's only the day before yesterday, buying bed-linen, the finest they had, and that wasn't good enough." "Psha!" said Miss Stanbury. "As though Mr. Gibson hadn't things of that kind good enough for her," said Martha.
As Dangerfield passed Captain Cluffe's lodgings, he heard the gay tinkle of a guitar, and an amorous duet, not altogether untunefully sung to that accompaniment; and he beheld little Lieutenant Puddock's back, with a broad scarlet and gold ribbon across it, supporting the instrument on which he was industriously thrumming, at the window, while Cluffe, who was emitting a high note, with all the tenderness he could throw into his robust countenance, and one of those involuntary distortions which in amateurs will sometimes accompany a vocal effort, caught the eye of the cynical wayfarer, and stopped short with a disconcerted little cough and a shake of his chops, and a grim, rather red nod, and 'Good-morning, Mr.
"That bit of woodland coming in there, they call it Barnton Spinnies, doesn't belong to the estate at all." This he said in a melancholy tone. "Doesn't it, really?" "And it comes right in between Lane's farm and Puddock's. They've always let me have the shooting as a compliment. Not that there's ever anything in it. It's only seven acres. But I like the civility." "Who does it belong to?"
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