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Updated: May 31, 2025
He remembered them now, although at the time they had made little impression upon his mind. But Raish Pulcifer's name was not mentioned in any of those conversations; Captain Jethro's had been, but not Raish's. Yet Primmie vowed that the latter had made Miss Martha cry. He determined to seek Primmie and ask for more particulars that very evening. But Primmie saved him the trouble of seeking her.
"I thank you for the compliment, Captain Hallett," he said, "but my intuition cannot keep pace with Mr. Pulcifer's ah calculations. No, indeed." Jethro pulled his beard. "I asked you," he said, solemnly, "what Raish Pulcifer cal'lated he was doin' buyin' up Development stock? Do you know?" "No. Is he buying it?" "If you ain't heard that he is, you're about the only one in East Wellmouth.
Pulcifer's assortment of watch charms and shivered with embarrassment. "Ain't it funny, now?" queried Raish, addressing the world in general. "Ain't it funny how things happen? When I fetched you over in my car t'other night didn't I say I hoped you and me'd meet again? That's what I said. And now we've met twice since. Once in the old boneyard and now here, eh?
Next his attention centered upon a large and bright yellow suitcase which the stranger was carrying. That suitcase settled it. Mr. Pulcifer's keen mind had diagnosed the situation. "No," he said, quickly, "I don't want nothin' nothin'; d'you get me?" "But but pardon me, I " "Nothin'. Nothin' at all. I've got all I want." The stranger seemed to find this statement puzzling.
Pulcifer's match went out, he started violently erect, bumping his head against the open door of the lamp compartment, and swung a red and agitated face toward his shoulder. "I beg your pardon," said the voice. "I'm afraid I startled you. I'm extremely sorry. Really I am." "What the h-ll?" observed Raish, enthusiastically. "I'm very sorry, very yes, indeed," said the voice once more. Mr.
This should have been reassuring, but it did not appear to be. Mr. Pulcifer's passenger drew a startled breath. "What WHAT is his Christian name?" he asked. "The the Mr. Hall who lives here?" "His name is Why? What's the matter?" "I'm afraid there has been a mistake. Is this Mr. Hall an entomologist?" "Eh? He ain't nothin' in particular. Don't go to meetin' much, Josh don't.
Pulcifer's mouth opposite that occupied by the cigar came the words and some of the tune of a song which had been the hit of a "Follies" show two seasons before. No, there was nothing dismal or gloomy in Mr. Horatio Pulcifer's appearance as he piloted his automobile toward home at the close of that October afternoon. And his outward seeming did not belie his feelings. He had spent a pleasant day.
Pulcifer's hand descended squarely upon the shoulder of the dark overcoat. "Don't say nothin' more," he ordered, heartily. "I'm only too glad to do a feller a favor any time, if it's a possible thing. That's me, that is. I shouldn't think of chargin' you a cent, but of course this cruise is a little mite off my track and it's late and er well, suppose we call it three dollars?
"Huh!" grunted Raish, jerking the gate from Mr. Bangs' hand and pushing it somewhat violently into the Bangs' waistcoat. "Mornin'." "It is a nice ah cool day, isn't it?" observed Galusha, backing from the gateway in order to give Horatio egress. Mr. Pulcifer's answer was irrelevant and surprising. "Say," he demanded, turning truculently upon the speaker, "ain't women hell?"
And he came and after he went away she cried, same as I told you she did." "But, Primmie, all that may be and yet Mr. Pulcifer's visit may have no connection with Miss Martha's monetary trouble." "I want to know! Well, if that's so, why was she and him talkin' so hard when he was here this afternoon? And why was she askin' him to please see if he couldn't get some sort of an offer?
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