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Updated: May 1, 2025
There is something else I must tell you. I must resign my seat." "Resign your seat? Give up Parliament? When?" "As soon as possible." He looked at me aghast, as if the world were coming to an end. "We had better concoct an epistle to Raggles this morning." "But you can't be serious?" "I can sometimes, my dear Dale. This is one of the afflicting occasions." "You out of Parliament?
"Hold your noise, Trotter; do now," said Simpson the page. He was affected by his mistress's deplorable situation, and succeeded in preventing an outrageous denial of the epithet "drunken" on the footman's part. "Oh, M'am," said Raggles, "I never thought to live to see this year day: I've known the Crawley family ever since I was born.
Crawley flung her morning robe round her and descended majestically to the drawing-room, whence the noise proceeded. The cook was there with blackened face, seated on the beautiful chintz sofa by the side of Mrs. Raggles, to whom she was administering Maraschino.
"But why, my poor Lola, have you wasted your love on a shadow like me?" She answered after the foolish way of women. I have not heard from either Dale or Lady Kynnersley. A day or two ago, in reply to a telegram to Raggles, I learned that Dale had lost the election. This, then, is the end of my apologia pro vita mea, which I began with so resonant a flourish of vainglory.
Partington, plumes and patchouli, and to disturb his rest with a soaring and beautiful song of future promise. But Raggles would awake to a sense of shivering cold and a haunting impression of ideals lost in a depressing aura of potato salad and fish. Thus Chicago affected him. Perhaps there is a vagueness and inaccuracy in the description; but that is Raggles's fault.
"I manage, however, to squeeze in a bit of work now and then. The mater has always got plenty on hand for me, and I do things for Raggles. He has been awfully decent. The first time I met him or any of the chiefs after the election I was in a blue funk.
She pouted very prettily. "No, they ignored you and Raggles and Tootles. Are there any more in my family that I haven't met?" "You see, we got to the station quite a bit ahead of Edith. That's how you happened to miss meeting us. We saw you there, however. I recognised you by your clothes. You seemed very unhappy. Oh, I forgot. You wanted to know who I am. Well, I am your sister-in-law."
Trotter, with a drunken "ha! ha!" and honest Raggles continued, in a lamentable tone, an enumeration of his griefs. All he said was true. Becky and her husband had ruined him. He had bills coming due next week and no means to meet them. He would be sold up and turned out of his shop and his house, because he had trusted to the Crawley family.
How was I going to convey to his candid intelligence the fact of my speedy withdrawal from political life without shattering his illusions? Besides, his devotion touched me, and his generous aspirations were so futile. Office! It was in my grasp. Raggles, with his finger always on the pulse of the party machine, was the last man in the world to talk nonsense. I only had to "buck up."
Blinker arose and jammed his hat down to his eyes. "Do what you please with it," he said harshly. "Remodel it, burn it, raze it to the ground. But, man, it's too late I tell you. It's too late. It's too late. It's too late." Besides many other things, Raggles was a poet.
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