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Updated: May 18, 2025
Tackleton's name Em'lv. "I call it a jolly rotten song," said Stephen crossly. "I won't stand being got at." "P'r'aps y'like therold song. Lishen. "'Of all the gulls that arsshmart, There's none line pretty Em'ly; For she's the darling of merart'" "Now, that's wrong." He rode up close to the singer. "Shright." "'Tisn't." "It's as my mother taught me." "I don't care."
Certainly, if these old gentlemen were inclined to have a fiendish joy in the contemplation of Tackleton's discomfiture, they had good reason to be satisfied. Tackleton couldn't get on at all; and the more cheerful his intended bride became in Dot's society, the less he liked it, though he had brought them together for that purpose.
I have suspected it from the first." "What is it?" asked the Carrier with a frightened aspect. "Hush! I'll show you, if you'll come with me." The Carrier accompanied him without another word. They went across a yard, where the stars were shining, and by a little side-door, into Tackleton's own counting-house, where there was a glass window, commanding the ware-room, which was closed for the night.
Tackleton's compliments, and, as he hasn't got no use for the cake himself, p'raps you'll eat it." And, with those words, he walked off. There was some surprise among the company, as you may imagine. Mrs. Fielding, being a lady of infinite discernment, suggested that the cake was poisoned, and related a narrative of a cake which, within her knowledge, had turned a seminary for young ladies blue.
But she was overruled by acclamation; and the cake was cut by May with much ceremony and rejoicing. I don't think any one had tasted it, when there came another tap at the door, and the same man appeared again, having under his arm a vast brown-paper parcel. "Mr. Tackleton's compliments, and he's sent a few toys for the Babby. They ain't ugly."
They went across a yard, where the stars were shining, and by a little side- door, into Tackleton's own counting-house, where there was a glass window, commanding the ware-room, which was closed for the night. There was no light in the counting-house itself, but there were lamps in the long narrow ware-room; and consequently the window was bright. 'A moment! said Tackleton.
He couldn't go about his customary cheerful avocations he wanted spirit for them but it mattered the less that it was Tackleton's wedding-day, and he had arranged to make his rounds by proxy. He had thought to have gone merrily to church with Dot. But such plans were at an end. It was their own wedding-day too. Ah! how little he had looked for such a close to such a year!
Wouldn't you, May?" Though May didn't say yes, she certainly didn't say no, or express no, by any means. Tackleton laughed quite shouted, he laughed so loud. John Peerybingle laughed too, in his ordinary good-natured and contented manner; but his was a mere whisper of a laugh to Tackleton's. "You couldn't help yourselves, for all that. You couldn't resist us, you see," said Tackleton.
Tackleton's compliments, and as he hasn't got no use for the cake himself, p'raps you'll eat it. And with those words, he walked off. There was some surprise among the company, as you may imagine. Mrs. Fielding, being a lady of infinite discernment, suggested that the cake was poisoned, and related a narrative of a cake, which, within her knowledge, had turned a seminary for young ladies, blue.
He couldn't go about his customary cheerful avocations he wanted spirit for them but it mattered the less, that it was Tackleton's wedding-day, and he had arranged to make his rounds by proxy. He thought to have gone merrily to church with Dot. But such plans were at an end. It was their own wedding-day too. Ah! how little he had looked for such a close to such a year!
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