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Updated: May 24, 2025
He might go and poach. There's heaps of opportunity round here for a chap who wants to try his hand at that. I remember, when I was a kid, Morton Smith, who used to be in this House remember him? took me to old what's-his-name's place. Who's that frantic blood who owns all that land along the Badgwick road? The M.P. man. 'Milord Sir Alfred Venner, M.P., of Badgwick Hall. 'That's the man.
"I tell you that the affair can't go wrong," resumed the long-haired man. "Father What's-his-name's team will be already harnessed." Then they began to discuss a melodrama that they had seen on the preceding evening at the Gaite Theatre. Marius went his way.
Freight-rockets were on the way moonward now, whose cargoes of supplies for a space-journey Cochrane was accepting only when a bonus in money was paid for the right to brag about it. So-and-so's oxygen paid for the privilege of supplying air-reserves. What's-his-name's dehydrated vegetables were accepted on similar terms, with whoosit's instant coffee and somebody else's noodle soup in bags.
It was Phyllis's turn again, and she was trying to look like the Sphinx that advertises What's-his-name's Personally Conducted Tours up the Nile when the sharp ting of the signal announced the up train. The children rushed out to see it pass. On its engine were the particular driver and fireman who were now numbered among the children's dearest friends. Courtesies passed between them.
"I was hungry, sir." "Hungry, eh? An able-bodied lad like you? Can't you work, then?" "When I can get it, sir," said Frank "Eh?... eh? Well, that's true enough. You couldn't get it that day, anyhow. Mr. What's-his-name's told us that." "Yes, sir." Then the Rector leaned forward swiftly to Frank's horror. "You speak like an educated man." "Do I, sir? I'm very pleased to hear it."
Then advisin him to keep away from the Peter Funk sections of the East, and the proprietors of corner-lots in the West, I bid him farewell, and went away. There was a levee at Senator What's-his-name's, and I thought I'd jine in the festivities for a spell. Who should I see but she that was Sarah Watkins, now the wife of our Congresser, trippin in the dance, dressed up to kill in her store close.
"And whose should they be?" she demanded haughtily. "Were you beginning to believe? great stupid! Oh! and he would believe it too," she went on, addressing Berenice. "I have a man's part in What's-his-name's piece, and I have never worn a man's clothes in my life before. The bootmaker for the theatre brought me these things to try if I could walk in them, until a pair can be made to measure.
As happy nearly as if a certain woman's grave had never been dug under the southern sun that could not save her, and as if the children gathered round him were those of whose faces he had often dreamt, but might never see. "I want to propose Mr. What's-his-name's health on my own account. I want to thank him for his story, which had only one mistake in it.
She looked more like my Uncle Frank, he did before he got talkin' so much to Miss Pelham. An' now I guess the way of it is, Miss Pelham's my Uncle Frank's best girl an' Miss Lang's Mr. What's-his-name's." "Well, now! Who'd believed you could 'a' seen so much? Why, you're a reg'ler Old Sleuth the Detective, or Sherlock Holmes, or somebody like that, for discoverin' things, ain't you?"
Now I'm in a position as superintendent of a flat building to know a lot about what goes on among the bachelor tenants. I ain't sayin' that the prisoner didn't go to Mr. What's-His-Name's flat without an invitation. You bet your life he wasn't expected, if my guess is correct.
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