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This probably refers, however, to the second part, i.e., the partial stupor lasting for two months. She did not “feel like talking,” the limbs “felt stiff-like.” Annie K. Age: 22. Admitted to the Psychiatric Institute January 7, 1907. F. H. The father was an alcoholic, who died when patient was a child. A paternal aunt had a nervous breakdown, with recovery. The mother appeared to be normal.
"I like the island," says she, solemn and stiff-like; "my dear nephew is an eccentric, but we must take our bread as we find it on this earth, Mister Begg, and thankful for it too. Poor Ruth, now, she is dreadfully distressed and unhappy; but I tell her it will all come right in the end. Let her be patient a little while and she will have her own way.
It was kind of shy and stiff-like, an' I think it sort of disappointed 'em; but they tried ter throw it off an' say that Jimmy was so modest he didn't like ter take praise. "'Course the whole town was interested, an' proud, too, ter think he belonged ter us; an' we couldn't hear half enough about him. But as time went on we got worried. Things didn't look right.
"'Say, he said to me, he said, just like that, 'I know a society who will pay you a big fat sum if you'll sign over them eyes for post-mortem laboratory work. Believe me, Bettina, he said, just like that, 'those are some goo-goos!" "'Goo-goos'?" "Yes, ma the way I look out of them." "See, Stella, if you'd only mix with the young men and not be so stiff-like with them. See!
She didn't take any heed of the hosses, but she looked hard at me, and when she was passed turned her head to have another look, and then she come back. "`Bain't you Tom Janaway, says she, `what used to work up to Wydcombe Farm? "`Ay, that I be, says I, but stiff-like, for it galled me to think what she'd a-done for master, and yet could look so jolly with it all.
I've had a touch of rheumaty, and this is the fust I've stirred for two weeks." "Sorry to hear it, Granny. Rheumatism can't be very comfortable." "Well, no; it's bahd for the jints," said the old woman, holding up her fingers, which were as shapeless as knobby potatoes. "Poor Granny! How hard that is!" "Well, they be hard, and kind o' stiff-like. But bless ye," laughed she, "that's nothing.
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