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Updated: July 8, 2025
Shovelin whether my father had intrusted him with the key of his own mysterious acts. I scarcely knew whether it was proper even now to put this question to Lord Castlewood; but even without doing so, I might get at the answer by watching him closely while I told my tale.
Shovelin answered, with a kind but rather too superior smile, which reminded me a little of dear Uncle Sam when he listened to what, in his opinion, was only female reason; "but, dear me, here is Major Hockin come! Punctuality is the soul of business." "So I always declare," cried the Major, who was more than three-quarters of an hour late, for which in my heart I thanked him.
"My watch keeps time to a minute, Sir, and its master to a second. Well, I hope you have settled all questions of finance, and endowed my young maid with a fortune." "So far from that," Mr. Shovelin replied, in a tone very different from that he used to me, "we have not even said one word of business; all that has been left for your return.
No wonder so many think it wuz the original Garden of Eden; no shovelin' snow for Adam or bankin' up fruits and vegetables for winter's use. No, he could step out barefoot in the warm velvety grass in December, and pick oranges and gather sweet potatoes and cucumbers, and strawberries if Eve took it into her head she wanted a shortcake pie.
And a pinch coming on in Threadneedle Street, I hear but I scarcely know what I am saying, miss; I was thinking of the camel and the needle." "I will not repeat what you have not meant to tell," I answered, seeing his confusion, and the clumsy turn he had made of it. "Only tell me what dear Mr. Shovelin died of." "Heart-disease, miss. You might know in a moment. Nothing kills like that.
S'pose ye jist been a shovelin' out nuggets all day long, till yer tired o' seein' 'em, hain't ye? Tad, I seed the beatenest bunch o' young'uns to-day ye ever seed in yer life, all on a explorin' trip o' some kind." "That so?" replied Tad, "must have been the same party I saw. Did you see that tall, slender lad with the brown eyes and dark hair?"
Why don't you get up a parson's Union and go on strike? By Jove! I would. Let your parish go to " "Danny, don't you think it looks like rain?" "No, neither do you; but here we are at the stone pile. My! but how the fellers will grin when they see a tenderfoot like you, and a parson at that, shovelin' stone. But they won't think any the less of you for it, mind you," he reassured his companion.
This promise I gave with fidelity, and returning to the cabman, directed him to drive not to Messrs. Shovelin, Wayte, and Shovelin just yet, but to No. 17 European Square, St. Katharine's.
But before I go, let me give you a glass of cold water, and beg you to dismiss that new idea from your mind." I could see, as I took with a trembling hand the water he poured out for me, that Mr. Shovelin was displeased. His kind and handsome face grew hard. He had taken me for a nice young lady, never much above the freezing-point, and he had found me boil over in a moment.
Lucy set the mop and pail out in the hall and began to clean the paint. "They've started to cover it up," chronicled Ellen, after a pause. "They're shovelin' in the dirt at least Mary and Jane are; Eliza's stopped helpin' 'em an' gone to see if anybody's comin'. There's somethin' dretful queer about it all. Don't you think so?" "I don't know," answered Lucy a trifle impatiently.
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