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Updated: May 3, 2025
"Me and the mate are goin' for a little stroll, Sam," observed the youth as he struggled into his jersey. "Keep your eyes open, and don't get into mischief. You can give Slushy a 'and with the sorsepans if you've got nothin' better to do. Don't stand about idle." The appearance of the mate impeded Sam's utterance, and he stood silently by the others, watching the couple as they clambered ashore.
He placed the articles in question upside down in a row on the deck, and Tim, reading the legends inscribed thereon, and glancing from them to the mate, was hastily led below in an overwrought condition by the flattered Mr. Green. "Cook," said the mate, ferociously. "Sir," said the other. "I won't 'ave the sorsepans cleaned that way.
"Well, o' course you know best, sir," said the cook, humbly. "I ain't nothing of a scholard myself. If it's writing, wot does it say, please?" "I don't say it is writing," growled the old man. "I say it looks like it." "I can assure you you're mistook, sir," said the cook, blandly; "you see, I clean the sorsepans the same way. I only 'eard of it lately. Look 'ere."
Tilda reappeared in the doorway. "A 'ole reel 'ouse! But why? and 'ow in the world?" Arthur Miles held out the card. "It's for sailors shipwrecked here." Tilda studied the notice. "And we 're shipwrecked! Well, if this ain't the loveliest. A reel 'ouse, with reel beds an' sorsepans!" Her jaw dropped. "An' I flung that blessed book away just as it was tellin' about breakfast dishes!"
It was all I had to throw, all the soft things being porned, and if your Docter Warner doesn't like having sorsepans thrown at him, don't let him wear his hat in a respectable woman's parler, and tell him to leave orf smiling or tell us the joke. Yours respectfully, Hannah Miles. "The other letter is from a physician of some note in Dublin, with whom Dr. Warner was once engaged in consultation.
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