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Updated: May 20, 2025
Mr. Bunce, the doctor, and Mr. Twitt, the stonemason, were in particular profoundly impressed when they knew that Reay had worked for two years on a London newspaper. "Ye must 'ave a ter'uble knowledge of the world, Mister!" said Twitt, thoughtfully "Just ter'uble!" "Yes, I should assume it must be so," murmured Bunce "I should think it could hardly fail to be so?" Reay gave a short laugh.
Twitt, who, standing at the garden gate with Charlie in her arms, waved hearty response, cheerfully calling out "Good Luck!" after her, and adding the further assurance "Ye'll find everything as well an' straight as ye left it when ye comes 'ome, please God!" Angus Reay accompanied her in the carrier's cart to Minehead, and there she caught the express to London.
Our own parson's gone an' died over in Madery, an' we'll never 'ave the likes of 'im no more! There's trouble comin' for the Church, you mark my words. An' Twitt, 'e says, 'G'arn, old 'ooman, it's the draught blowin' in at the door as makes the candle gutter, but all the same my words 'as come true!" "Why no, surely not!" said Mary, "Our parson isn't dead in Madeira at all!
Reay, he kep' us wide awake an' starin'! An' there's one tex which sticks in my 'ed an' comforts me for myself an' for everybody in trouble as I ever 'eerd on " "And what's that, Mrs. Twitt?" asked Helmsley, turning round in his chair, that he might see her better. "It's this, Mister David," and Mrs. Twitt drew a long breath in preparation before beginning the quotation, "an' it's beautiful!
"That's true that's Testymen true!" And the individual addressed as Mrs. Twitt, heaved a profound sigh which was loud enough to flutter through the open door to Helmsley's ears "Which, as I sez to Twitt often, shows as 'ow we shouldn't iver tempt Providence.
Mary laughed; and Helmsley listened with a smile on his own lips. She had such a pretty laugh, so low and soft and musical. "Oh, never mind the poor spider, Mrs. Twitt!" she said "Let it climb up the ironing blanket if it likes! I see dozens of spiders 'at morn, and I've never in my life wished I wasn't born! Why, if you go out in the garden early, you're bound to see spiders!"
For a Nervy Tonic or for the latest pol'tics? An' myself me Twitt answers an' sez 'Why ye're payin' for news an' pol'tics, of course! Well then, I sez, 'Twitt, ye aint gettin' nothin' o' the sort! An' t' other day, blow'd if I didn't see in my paper a long piece about ''Ow to be Beautiful' an' that 'adn't nothin' to do wi' me nor no man, but was just mere gabble for fool women.
He didn't want to pitch anyhow, but the captain just shoved him in; so when he got tired and Wyndham seemed to have a safe lead, he just lobbed the ball over and let Clearport hit. Of course he was taken out, and that gave him a chance to look on while Twitt Crowell did the heavy work." "If that's right," said Phil, "Newbert can't be trusted. Why, he might have thrown the game away."
I've got it 'ere " And, referring to a much worn and battered old leather pocket-book, Twitt drew from it a soiled piece of paper, and read as follows Here lies All that is Mortal of CATHERINE TIMBS The Dearly Beloved Wife of Samuel Timbs of Weircombe. She Died At the Early Age of Forty-Nine Full of Virtues and Excellencies Which those who knew Her Deeply Deplore and NOW is in Heaven.
Bible texes is goin' out o' fashion it's best to 'ave somethin' orig'nal an' for originality I don't think I can be beat in these parts. I'll do ye yer hepitaph with pleasure!" "That will be kind!" And Helmsley smiled a little sadly "What will you say of me when I'm gone?" Twitt looked at him thoughtfully, with his head very much on one side.
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