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Updated: May 7, 2025
Miss Ramsbotham found interest once again in the higher branches of her calling; became again, by slow degrees, the sensible, frank, 'good sort' that Bohemia had known, liked, respected everything but loved. Years later, to Susan Fossett, the case was made clear; and through Susan Fossett, a nice enough woman but talkative, those few still interested learned the explanation.
Thus their decision was made, and they journeyed on accordingly until they reached the village of Ramsbotham, not far distant. They found employment in a print-work, in which William served his apprenticeship; and they commanded themselves to their employers by their diligence, sobriety, and strict integrity.
"But," argued Peter, "there are already such papers papers devoted to to that sort of thing, and to nothing else." "At sixpence!" replied the practical Miss Ramsbotham. "I am thinking of the lower middle-class woman who has twenty pounds a year to spend on dress, and who takes twelve hours a day to think about it, poor creature. My dear friend, there is a fortune in it.
I grieve for you as for a fellow-worker once inspired by devotion to a noble calling, who has fallen from her high estate. Good morning, madam." So Peter thought as he sat tattooing with his finger-tips upon the desk; but only said "It would have to be well done." "Everything would depend upon how it was done," agreed Miss Ramsbotham. "Badly done, the idea would be wasted.
When the Ramsbotham candidate appeared, and James scrupled to divide the contrary interest, Louis laid the whole blame of the split upon Mr. Calcott; while, as to poor Mr. Powell, no words were compassionate enough for his dull, slouching, ungentlemanly air; and he was pronounced to be an old writing-master, fit for nothing but to mend pens. But Mr. Walby's was still their sole promise.
Ramsbotham was not sorry to establish a claim, and was likewise gratified by the frank engaging manners, which increased the pleasure of being solicited by a nobleman a distinction of which he thought more than did all the opposite party. To put James beyond the perils of the casting vote was next the point.
It was during the process of this, her metamorphosis, that Peter Hope one evening received a note from her announcing her intention of visiting him the next morning at the editorial office of Good Humour. She added in a postscript that she would prefer the interview to be private. Punctually to the time appointed Miss Ramsbotham arrived.
For the future well, they have said nothing; but I expect they are beginning to get tired of it." "And you!" questioned Peter. "Yes. I am tired of it myself," laughed Miss Ramsbotham. "Life isn't long enough to be a well-dressed woman." "You have done with all that?" "I hope so," answered Miss Ramsbotham. "And don't want to talk any more about it?" suggested Peter. "Not just at present.
I appeal to the recorded opinions of those whom I do not know, and who do not know me, nor care for me, except for the truth that I may have uttered; to Copland, in his "Medical Dictionary," who has spoken of my Essay in phrases to which the pamphlets of American "scribblers" are seldom used from European authorities; to Ramsbotham, whose compendious eulogy is all that self-love could ask; to the "Fifth Annual Report" of the Registrar-General of England, in which the second-hand abstract of my Essay figures largely, and not without favorable comment, in an important appended paper.
But if I say, 'That's my keerd, young man. You tell your master Miss Ramsbotham is waiting for him in the showroom, and will take it real kind if he'll just bustle himself, the poor fellow walks backwards till he stumbles against the bottom stair, and my gentleman comes down with profuse apologies for having kept me waiting three minutes and a half.
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