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Updated: June 2, 2025
The tea, which he, had poured out of one of his own teapots, had been completely spoilt by the knowledge that it was only this teapot that had saved him from being treated as a White Slave Trafficker. He wouldn't have got into that hotel at all with the Twinklers, or into any other decent one, except for his teapot. What a country, Mr.
It had naturally been expected by the elder ladies at the beginning of the journey, that two obscure Twinklers of such manifest youth should rise politely and considerately each morning very early, and get themselves dressed and out of the way in at the most ten minutes, leaving the cabin clear for the slow and careful putting together bit by bit of that which ultimately emerged a perfect specimen of a lady of riper years, but the weedy Twinkler insisted on lying in her berth so late that if the ladies wished to be in time for the best parts of breakfast, which they naturally and passionately did wish, they were forced to dress in her presence, which was most annoying and awkward.
Twist, whose misgivings as to the effect of the Twinklers on his mother grew rather than subsided, "I shall certainly come to see you." "Perhaps Mr. Sack won't allow followers," said Anna-Felicitas, her eyes far away. "Uncle Arthur didn't. He wouldn't let the maids have any, so they had to go out and do the following themselves.
"You see," said Anna-Felicitas, "we're the Twinklers." "Yes, yes I know. You've told me that." "So naturally we've come." "But is it natural?" asked Mr. Sack, looking at them distractedly. "We sent you a telegram," said Anna-Rose, "or rather one to Mrs. Sack, which is the same thing " "It isn't, it isn't," said the distressed Mr. Sack. "I wish it were. It ought to be. Mrs. Sack isn't here "
His sympathies had been alienated from the Miss Twinklers the moment he heard through the chambermaid that they had tied the heavy canary cage on to the hanging electric light in their bedroom. He said nothing, of course. One doesn't say anything if one is an hotel manager, until the unique and final moment when one says everything. On the last afternoon before Mrs.
"Well I do," burst out Mr. Twist. "It's old Ridding, of course. His name is Ridding. The old man who was here yesterday. Now listen: I won't have " But Anna-Felicitas was laughing, and her eyes had disappeared into two funny little screwed-up eyelashy slits. Mr. Twist stopped abruptly and glared at her. These Twinklers.
Then, as quick as may be, marry those girls." "Marry what girls?" "The Miss von Twinklers." Mr. Twist stared at him. "Marry them?" he said helplessly. "Marry them who to?" "You for one." Mr. Twist stared at him in silence. Then he said, "You've said that to me before." "Yep. And I'll say it again. I'll go on saying it till you've done it."
It had hesitated between the two, but finally chose entourage because there happened to be no accent in its stock of type. The Cosmopolitan guests were amused at the word, and though inquisitive were altogether amiable; and, until the last afternoon, only the manager didn't like the Twinklers. He didn't like them because of the canary.
They put Edith in possession of these facts while she helped them unpack and brushed and plaited their hair for them, and she was much astonished, both at the conditions of discomfort and slavery they revealed as prevalent in other countries, and at the fact that they, the Twinklers, should hail from Pomerania.
Twist was quiet for a bit. He couldn't compete with the Twinklers when it came to sheer language. He sat hunched on his rock, his face supported by his two fists, staring out to sea while the twins watched him indignantly. School indeed! Then presently he pushed his hat back and began slowly to rub his ear.
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