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Updated: June 21, 2025
It's morbid that's what I call it morbid, just to dream of such a thing." "There's Bertha," he quavered. "Great Scott, and who's Bertha?" "The girl my mother chose for me two years ago Bertha McNutt, you know. She'd really prefer me not to marry at all, but if I must it's Bertha, Westoby Bertha or nothing!" "It's too late to say that now, old fellow"
W. A. S. Westoby, and the same author, in collaboration with Judge Philbrick, some twenty years ago published a work on The Postal and Telegraph Stamps of Great Britain. Messrs. W. J. Hardy and E. D. Bacon, in a work entitled The Stamp Collector, have sketched the general history of postage stamps.
He's thoroughly up-to-date, you know; does the X-ray act; and keeps the pace of modern science." "You say you can answer for him," said the bishop genially. "Might I inquire who you are." "I'm named Westoby Ezra Westoby managing partner of Hodge & Westoby, boxers." "I like boxers," said the bishop in the tone of a benediction, rising to dismiss me. "I like one thousand dollar checks, too.
"If it wasn't for my mother I'd throw everything to the winds and fly to her," he burst out. "But I have a mother a sainted mother, Mr. Westoby her welfare must always be my first consideration!" "Is there no chance of anything turning up?" I said. "An appendicitis case an outbreak of measles? I thought there was a lot of scarlatina just now." He shook his head dejectedly.
He muttered something about his mother. "Well, what about your mother?" I said. "Westoby," he returned, "I guess I was the worst kind of fool ever to put my foot into this house." That was nice news, wasn't it? Just as I was settling in my head to buy that Seventy-second Street place, and alter the basement into a garage! "You see, old man, my mother would never consent to my marrying Eleanor.
"For five seconds I was the happiest man in the United States. I I did everything you said, you know, and I was dumfounded at my own success. S-s-she loves me, Westoby." I gazed inquiringly at the dress-suit case. "We don't belong to any common Joneses. We're Connecticut Joneses.
I could feel that my presence was the last straw to this unfortunate medical camel. I threw in a genial remark about the weather, and took a seat. Jones hunched himself together, and squirmed a sad little squirm. "Mr. Westoby," he said, "I once made use of a very strong expression in regard to you. I said, if you remember, that I'd be obliged if you'd keep your paws "
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