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Updated: May 26, 2025
You can consider yourself lucky to get a supper out of us this last night." "You forget I can make it precious awkward for you if I like," growled Durfy. "Awkward! You've a right to be a judge of what's awkward after the neat way you've managed things," sneered Shanklin. "It takes you all your time to make things awkward for yourself, let alone troubling about us."
"Yes," said Mr Shanklin, "time's up to-day. I've told him where to find us. If he doesn't, you must go your trip by yourself; I can safely stay and screw my man up." "Think he will turn up?" "Can't say. He seems to be flush enough of money still." "Well, he can't say you've not helped him to get rid of it." "I've done my best," said Mr Shanklin, laughing. "I shall be glad of a holiday.
One hundred pounds a day for ten days makes how much, Durfy?" "A thousand," said Durfy. "Humph!" said Mr Shanklin. "Time to think of our Christmas holidays." "Wait a bit. We've not done yet. You say your two young mashers are still in tow, Alf?" "Yes; green as duckweed. But they're nearly played out, I guess.
The confession of that vanished delusion was left for her to make, as part of the story of the past which she had pledged herself unreservedly to reveal. She wrote to Miss Garth, and sent the letter to the post immediately. The next morning brought a line of rejoinder. Miss Garth had written to secure the cottage at Shanklin, and Mr.
For a little while he stooped over Hun; then he took the gambler's coat from the saddle and spread it over his face. Hun Shanklin was in need of no greater service that man could render him. Dr. Slavens took off his coat and brought out his instrument-case. He gave Boyle such emergency treatment as was possible where the gun-fighter lay, and then called Ten-Gallon to help take him into the tent.
"Yes; you managed to do it this time without botching it, for a wonder!" said Mr Shanklin. "Yes; and I hope you'll manage to give me the ten-pound note you promised me for it, Mr S.," replied Durfy, with a snarl. "You seem to have forgotten that, and my commission too for finding you your new secretary." "Yes.
I know Cruden of old." "You won't see much more of him now," sneered Pillans, "now he owes you for his dinner." "It strikes me, Bland was never safer of a six-and-six in his life than he is of the one he lent to-night," said Mr Shanklin. "Unless I'm mistaken, the fellow would walk across England on his bare feet to pay it back."
Are they nice apples?" "Yes, very," said the little pig. "I will throw you down one." And he threw it so far, that, while the wolf was gone to pick it up, the little pig jumped down and ran home. The next day the wolf came again, and said to the little pig: "Little pig, there is a fair at Shanklin this afternoon, will you go?" "Oh yes," said the pig, "I will go; what time shall you be ready?"
If it hadn't worked honestly for Shanklin, it was about to set in for a mighty reformation. But there was the trouble of Agnes' absence, which persisted between him and sleep when he arranged himself in his blankets. He turned with it, and sighed and worked himself into a fever of anxiety.
It's as hard work sponging one fool as it is fleecing a couple of hundred sheep, eh?" "Well, the wool came off very easily, I must say. I reckon there'll be a clean £500 to divide on the Liverpool business alone." "Nice occupation that'll be on the Boulogne steamer to-morrow," said Mr Shanklin. "Dear me, I hope it won't be rough, I'm such a bad sailor!"
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