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Updated: May 27, 2025
'Well, well, wife, said Mr Harding soothingly, 'things won't be as bad as you think for. You can get Martha Spriggs to help with the chores, and the children will soon be older. Young folks must have a turn, you know, and I shall write to Robert to-night and tell him Pawliney will be along shortly that is if you'd like to go, my dear?
Since that day he had known neither sorrow nor trouble, and this attempt to fill him with new hopes was, indeed, a cruelty. "A hundred a year's a nice thing, for sartain, neighbour Spriggs," said he. "I once had nigh to that myself, but it didn't do me no good." And he gave a low sigh, as he thought of the children of his own loins who had robbed him.
Spriggs coughed again; but the young people had found a new subject of conversation. It ended some minutes later in a playful scuffle, during which the door acted the part of a ventilating fan. "It's only for another fortnight," said Mrs. Spriggs, hastily, as her husband rose. "After they're spliced," said the vindictive Mr.
Mr. Price stepped swiftly to the small sideboard, and, taking up his hat, clapped it on. He paused a moment at the door to glance up and down the street, and then the door closed softly behind him. Mrs. Spriggs looked at her husband. "Called away to Australia by special telegram," said the latter, winking. "Bill White is a trump; that's what he is." "Oh, George!" said his wife.
Spriggs, he had it built first-class, with a room finished off in the roof attic, he called it three good rooms on the ground floor, white-painted clapboards an' reg'lar blinds, green blinds with slats turnin' easy as nothin'. Not like the old-fashioned wooden shutters, so clumsy 't you can't see out to tell who's comin' along the road without openin' the hull concern.
"I wish it was over," whispered his wife. "She'll break her heart if anything happens, and and Gussie will be out now in a day or two." "A gal can't 'elp what her uncle does," said Mr. Spriggs, fiercely; "if Alfred throws her over for that, he's no man." "Pride is his great fault," said his wife, mournfully. "It's no good taking up troubles afore they come," observed Mr. Spriggs.
In the ballroom of the Hotel Taftoftia, during Christmas week, William K. Spriggs, Ph.D., held a number of fashionable audiences spellbound with his marvellously lucid dances in Euclid and Algebra up to Quadratics. Perhaps the very acme of the Terpsichorean art was attained in the masterly fluency of body and limbs with which Mr.
A petition signed by half the hospital would have but a poor effect. It was in Skulpit's room that the petition was now lying, waiting such additional signatures as Abel Handy, by his eloquence, could obtain for it. The six marks it bore were duly attested, thus: his his his Abel X Handy, Gregy X Moody, Mathew X Spriggs, mark mark mark
Spriggs, sipping his tea, "I wrote to Scotland Yard and told 'em that Augustus Price, ticket-of-leave man, was trying to obtain a hundred and ten pounds by false pretences." Mr. Price, white and breathless, rose and confronted him. "The beauty o' that is, as Bill says," continued Mr. Spriggs, with much enjoyment, "that Gussie'll 'ave to set out on his travels again.
Moody had followed with an inkhorn, carefully left behind by Finney; and Spriggs bore aloft, as though it were a sword, a well-worn ink-black pen, which from time to time he endeavoured to thrust into Skulpit's unwilling hand. With the learned man were his two abettors in indecision, William Gazy and Jonathan Crumple.
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