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Updated: May 3, 2025
William Button, of Tooley Street, in 'the highly novel and laughable hippo- comedietta of The Tailor's Journey to Brentford. Thomas Gradgrind took no heed of these trivialities of course, but passed on as a practical man ought to pass on, either brushing the noisy insects from his thoughts, or consigning them to the House of Correction.
You see, I have become quite an important person in Tooley Street all of a sudden. I'll tell you about it presently. Now hold on tightly to your stick. I'm much too impatient to go down the steps one by one. I'm going to carry you all the way." "But where to?" she asked. "Leave it to me," he laughed. "There are all sorts of surprises for you. The lady with the wand has been busy."
Tooley, up the Elmwood road, entrusted the obliging Hank with the following message: "Tell Doc Mitchell that if he don't get my new set of teeth ready for the thrashing I'll hev the law on him for breaking up my happy home. Two of my old beaux're coming to the thrashing and if they was to see me without my teeth they'd jest naturally make Jim miserable and me a divorcee." Mrs.
Old Jonas P. Lonergan, his crutch beside him, is lying comfortably in another lounging chair. But he already looks much more vigorous. Captain Dan Rugley, as ever, is tipped back against the wall in his favorite position. Frances is with her sewing at a low table, while Pratt is lying on the rug at his mother's feet. "What's that Mr. Tooley said in his letter, Frances?" asked Pratt.
"What in the name of conscience is a jack-pot?" Hepsey asked. Donald laughed and Nickey continued: "A jack-pot's a jack-pot; there isn't no other name that I ever heard of. We caught Tooley and stuck him under the basket, and made him do it all over again.
He was gazing at the inner door. Every moment he expected to hear what? It seemed to him that tragedy was there, the greatest tragedy of all the hunting of man! Sabatini yawned. "Those others," he declared, "must settle their own little differences. After all, it is not our affair." It was fully half-past three before Arnold found himself back in Tooley Street.
"Once Tooley made a bolt in a straight line through Dimp's quarter, and hit Dimp in the mouth, and bowled him over like a nine-pin. Dimp was scared to death, and howled like murder till he found he'd scooped the pot; then he got quiet.
Weatherley never likes to bring the car into Tooley Street. It was ten minutes past nine when he set him down and left him there." Arnold glanced at the clock. "It is now," he said, "a quarter to eleven. The spot you speak of is only two hundred yards away, but I can assure you that Mr. Weatherley has not yet arrived." Mrs. Weatherley began to laugh softly.
Nothing would persuade it to hurry. It would not, for all the untold wealth contained in the great stores of Tooley Street, have abated the very last second of the last minute of the hour. On the contrary, it went through that second quite as slowly as all the others.
Julius Caesar himself couldn't kick up a greater row." "What Green is it, Green of Rollestone?" inquired Nimrod, thinking of his Leicestershire friend. "No," said Mr. Jorrocks, "Green of Tooley Street.
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