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Updated: June 16, 2025
"Tommie?" suggested Lady Lydiard, still watching her nephew as maliciously as ever. "That's it!" cried Felix, seizing his excuse, and rallying his spirits. "Why don't I hear Tommie snarling behind me; why don't I feel Tommie's teeth in my trousers?" The smile vanished from Lady Lydiard's face; the tone taken by her nephew in speaking of her dog was disrespectful in the extreme.
"They think I am still rich, my dear," she answered. "So you are, but not in the way they mean," Tommie said. "And, Mother Huldah, if they neglect you a day longer it won't be your Tommie's fault." Then Mother Huldah shook her finger at him. "You switch your tail just as if you were going to steal something. Tommie, I brought you up better than that." "Steal! nonsense!" cried Tommie.
"I will come to see Mother Huldah this afternoon," she said, "and bring her some cakes of my own baking." After Clara one person and another came up. Some asked foolish questions, some wise. Some paid down money, others didn't, but the pile of gold and silver at Tommie's feet grew steadily.
I can't drop his acquaintance, on Tommie's account. The only other alternative is to keep Isabel out of his way. My good little girl shall not drift into a false position while I am living to look after her. When Mr. Hardyman calls to-morrow she shall be out on an errand. When he calls the next time she shall be upstairs with a headache.
"I mean those cakes and pies I had charged to you down at Tommie's." "Tommie" was the name by which the proprietor of one of the little restaurants and bakeshops in Winthrop was familiarly called by the college boys. "I didn't know you had anything charged to me." "You didn't?" "No. I haven't had any bill for it, anyway." "You'll get it.
Then Carl felt his heart go pit-a-pat, and all the snow wreaths on the trees seemed to turn to bridal flowers. "Thanks, dear and wise Pussy," he said, and took out his handkerchief and spread it at Tommie's feet and on it he placed not one, but three gold pieces.
Thos. E. Watson" for an entire year granting, of course, that their Promethean brilliancy fail to set your shirt-tail afire in the meantime. There is no provision for the return of your money in case Tommie's exhuberant patriotism should overpower you. We are then assured that "no Roman Pope or American Cardinal can coerce" the architect of the "brilliant and patriotic editorials" aforesaid.
But when he looked around he could see no one, and then he knew it was Tommie's kite, flying up in the air, that was doing the pulling. The wind was blowing hard now, and as Uncle Wiggily had the kite string wound around his paws, of course he was pulled almost off his feet. "Ha! That kite is a great puller!" said the bunny uncle. "I must look out or it might pull me up to the clouds.
"String, Tommie? What for?" "Well, I want to make my kite string longer so it will go up higher. But if you have none I'll run home and get some myself. Will you hold the kite while I'm gone?" "To be sure I will," said Uncle Wiggily. So he took hold of the string of Tommie's kite, which was now quite high in the air.
"I'm never going to bet any more," remarked Peter John simply. "Of course not." "But my money is gone and I sha'n't be able to pay for those things I had charged to you at Tommie's, as I fully meant to." "Never mind that." "I'm going to study harder too." "Not just yet. I shouldn't bother my head about such things now, Peter John. Wait till you are up and around before you do that."
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