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Updated: June 18, 2025
"Hif you did that, hit's your own fault." "I wouldn't have done it, except to advertise my shoe business," said Terwilliger, ruefully.
Thus, on your way to the Post Office, you are intercepted by some kindly soul who says: "I am Miss Terwilliger, from Montgomery, Alabama; and do you think that Bernard Shaw is really an immoral writer?" or, "I am Mrs. Winterbottom, of Muncie, Indiana; and where do you think I had better send my boy to school?
In short, palatial surroundings had too obviously destroyed in his wife and daughters all that capacity for happiness in a hovel of which Mr. Terwilliger had been so proud, and concerning which he had so eloquently spoken to Baron Bangletop's agent, and he now found himself in the position of Damocles.
Terwilliger, drowsily, as she opened her eyes and saw her husband preparing for the fray. She no longer called him Hankinson, not because she did not think it a good name, nor was it less euphonious to her ear than Judson, but Judson was Mr. Terwilliger's middle name, and middle names were quite the thing, she had observed, in the best circles.
"Come," said Terwilliger at last. "Let us go back to the drawing-room, or they'll miss us, and, by-the-way, you might speak of that little matter to Ariadne to-night. It'll help the fall trade to have the engagement announced." "I will, Mr.
"You said as 'ow I must keep sober, and 'ow could I do hotherwise hunless I swallered some spirits?" Terwilliger laughed. He thought it was a pretty good joke for a ghost especially a cook's ghost and then, having agreed on the hour of midnight one fortnight thence for the next meeting, they shook hands and parted. "What was it, Hankinson?" asked Mrs.
"That would be awful. Hankinson, Duke of Terwilliger! Why, Molly, I'd never be able to hold up my head in shoe circles with a name on me like that." "Is there nothing in the world but shoes, Judson?" asked his wife, seriously. "You'll find shoes are the foundation upon which society stands," chuckled Terwilliger in return. "You are never serious," returned Mrs. Terwilliger; "but now you must be.
I'll pay you your wages if you'll go back to Spookland and mind your own business. Ten pounds isn't much when three-dollar shoes cost fifteen cents a pair and sell like hot waffles. Is it a bargain?" "H'I was sent off with three months' money owin' me," said the ghost. "Well, call it thirty pounds, then," replied Terwilliger.
Terwilliger, after having tasted the joys of aristocratic life, bring herself to don the apron which so became her portly person in the early American days, and prepare for her lord and master one of those delicious platters of poached eggs and breakfast bacon, the mere memory of which made his mouth water.
The second impulse was to arise in his might, put on a stout pair of the Terwilliger three-dollar brogans the strongest shoe made, having been especially devised for the British Infantry in the Soudan and garments suitable to the occasion, namely, a mackintosh and pair of broadcloth trousers, and go to the rescue of the distressed domestic.
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