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Updated: May 24, 2025
As a recent writer has said: "To lead this boy to read Scott's novels instead of old Sleuth's stories; to teach this girl to sew; to root out the habit of bullying from John's make-up; to prepare this class to study medicine, these are samples of the millions of aims we have actually before us in the concrete work of education."
Bunting, may I trouble you to come over here for a moment?" The words were hissed rather than spoken by Mr. Sleuth's lips. His landlady took a doubtful step towards him. "A last word with you, Mrs. Bunting." The lodger's face was still distorted with fear and passion. "Do not think to escape the consequences of your hideous treachery. I trusted you, Mrs. Bunting, and you betrayed me!
No doubt Mr. Sleuth's nose had bled that was what had happened; though, come to think of it, he had mentioned brushing up against a dead animal. Perhaps Ellen was right after all. It didn't do for one to be always thinking of dreadful subjects, of murders and such-like. It made one go dotty that's what it did.
Scarcely aware that it was so, both Bunting and his wife felt more cheerful than they had done for a long time. They had quite a pleasant little chat when Mrs. Bunting came and sat down for a bit, before going down to prepare Mr. Sleuth's breakfast. "Daisy will be surprised to see you not to say disappointed!" she observed, and she could not help laughing a little to herself at the thought.
Are they all still at breakfast? The gentleman who came to see Mr. Lattaker? Still hard at it?" "He is at present occupied with a kippered herring, sir." "Ah! That's all, Voules." "Thank you, sir." He retired. I called to George, and he came out. "Who was it?" "Only Voules. He brought a letter for you. They're all at breakfast still. The sleuth's eating kippers." "That'll hold him for a bit.
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