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Updated: October 25, 2025
A local institution can't be called Barbara Ann Waterbury, unless it's a crêche or a drinking-fountain or something like that, can it?" "It cannot, Barbran." "Thank you, Mr. Dominie," said Barbran gratefully.
Poor Luke looked disappointed. He knew that he had at least an even chance of winning, and he wanted the watch. Several of his friends of his own age had watches, either silver or Waterbury, and this seemed, in his circumstances, the only chance of securing one. Now he was apparently barred out. "It's a pity you shouldn't skate, Luke," said Mr. Hooper, in a tone of sympathy.
Waterbury was stingy of cash, but not of words. "I've looked for you," he whipped out venomously, his large hands ravenous for something to rend. "Now I've caught you. Who was in with you on that dirty deal? Answer, you cur! Spit it out before the crowd. Was it me? Was it me?" he reiterated in a frenzy, taking a step forward for each word, his bad grammar coming equally to the fore.
Silence. "Mr. Waterbury was thrown. I took his mount," he blurted out, at length. "Are you hurt?" She shook her head without replying; biting her lips. She was devouring him with her eyes; eyes dark with passion. The memory of that moment in his arms was seething within her. Why why had she not known! They looked at each other; eye to eye; soul to soul. Neither spoke.
If nothing happened in three minutes he was going to turn round. One two three and the silence made it seem fifteen. He returned his Waterbury to his pocket and turned round. Pearson was not dead. He was standing quite still and resigned, waiting.
As soon as he had concluded his bargain with his master, he set out for Waterbury on foot, and upon arriving there, sought and obtained work from a man who made clock-dials for the manufacturers of clocks. He worked with his new employer awhile, and then formed an arrangement with two journeymen clock-makers.
Please deliver the red, tall clock to Betsy Hale, who lives on the road to Waterbury Hill, and kindly take that cheerful youngster from Connecticut the one with the walnut case and a brass pendulum to Mrs. Henry Watson. You remember that ill-tempered Dutch thing, with a loud gong and a white dial, please take that to Harry Warner, I put some work on them all but there's no charge.
They're relatives of ours, unfortunately. But I wanted to tell you that I'm going down to Waterbury. He looked at his watch. 'Thirteen minutes shall I do it? There's a good local paper, the Free Press, and I have the offer of part-ownership. I shall buy, if possible, and live in the country for a year or two, to pick up my health. Can't say I love London.
And the basket would do to bring the cherries back in if they found any. She also lent them her silver watch so that they should not be late for tea. Peter's Waterbury had taken it into its head not to go since the day when Peter dropped it into the water-butt. And they started.
Drake sullenly resumed his coat, and Waterbury was driven off, leaving a back draft of impolite adjectives and vague threats against everybody. The crowd drifted away. It was a fitting finish for the scotched Carter Handicap. Meanwhile, Garrison, taking advantage of the switching of the lime-light from himself to Drake, had dodged to oblivion in the crowd.
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