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Updated: June 23, 2025
In the mornings a chair used to be placed on the cliff-side facing the sea, and towards ten o'clock a very old man would walk slowly down the village street and take his seat. A little shelf held his pipe and tobacco-jar, and he would sit and smoke contentedly until the afternoon. The children used to play around him with perfect confidence, although he seldom spoke to them.
"In that case," assented Billy, "should anything happen, you'll know exactly what to do, and I can leave you in charge without feeling the least anxiety." "That's just what you can do," the stranger agreed heartily, "and you can't do it too quick!" From the desk he took Billy's favorite pipe and loaded it from Billy's tobacco-jar. But when Billy had reached the door he called to him.
Miss Penkridge dropped her knitting on her silk-gowned knees and stared at the leaping flames; her nephew, with an odd glance at her, rose from his easy-chair, picked up a pipe and began to fill it from a tobacco-jar on the mantelpiece. The clock had ticked several times before Miss Penkridge spoke. "Well!" she said, with the accompanying sigh which denotes complete content. "So he did it!
'I put a sovereign in the tobacco-jar yesterday. How do you expect a man to keep his accounts properly if you Here the Nilghai began to laugh, and Torpenhow joined him. 'Hid a sovereign yesterday! You're no sort of financier. You lent me a fiver about a month back. Do you remember? Torpenhow said. 'Yes, of course.
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