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Updated: May 7, 2025
"There was an officer in my carriage to-day ... going on to Whimple ... and he told me about poison gas ... the men died in frightful agony, he said ... and then he talked about machine guns.... 'They can perforate a man like a postage stamp, he said.... Isn't it vile, Mary?" Her head was still bent, and as she did not make an answer to him, he turned to look away from her.
But, as calmly as possible, he said, "Don't worry on that score, William, a rest will do you good. Besides, if you go where Mr. Whimple wants you to, you'll not miss a great deal. I know the boys in that family. They're clean; they have a good library, and oh well, you go! Remember the proverb: 'It's better to go slow sometimes, than to hustle all the time."
Whimple stirred uneasily, and Tommy Watson, whose cheeks were wet with tears, shook a warning finger at him. The old man looked up again. "The shadow came again," he said quietly, "and somewhere somewhere they are waiting for me. Men differ on religion, and fight over the future state. What do I know of it? I don't know.
William saw it the first day Sally used it, questioned her closely, took the table back to Lucien, and gave him no rest until there had been a consultation with Whimple and the first steps had been taken toward patenting the invention. It is in use by every hospital almost in the world now, but few recall that a boy then barely seventeen years of age invented it.
He's getting feeble, but his mind is as clear as ever, and his heart well, his heart has never grown old." "William Adolphus Turnpike, Epstein, retired comedian, Tommy Watson, auctioneer," said Whimple softly, and then looking up he found Watson regarding him with a whimsical smile. "Us three, and no more Amen, as the Three Guardsmen used to say," Tommy said.
Miss Whimple, who was greatly taken with the little toddler, noticed that William was particularly tender toward her, his hands were ever ready to lift her, or guide her over rough ground, he suited his steps to hers when she walked, and all the time he kept up a running fire of baby talk. Dolly was all dimples and smiles; she seemed to be perfectly happy and contented, but she made no sound.
Lucien was screaming, "It wasn't me it wasn't me," when Whimple entered the office, also on the run, flung aside the perspiring K.C., righted Lucien, whom, on his entrance, he had thought was William, and demanded angrily the meaning of the disturbance. The K.C. wrathfully explained from his point of view; Lucien tearfully, but firmly, declared that he was in no way responsible.
The ceremony was a solemn one too solemn almost for William whose efforts to maintain a dignified bearing were almost too much for Tommy. Whimple had no difficulty in maintaining the pose of a lawyer engaged in a serious case, while the assistants were too frightened to be anything else but soberly sheepish.
She sent a note to the office one day, asking Whimple to send the lad up, ostensibly with some papers, "but in reality," she added, "because I want him to take luncheon with me; I want to ask him about some things."
William, who had been glaring at him for some time, remarked scathingly, "Gee, you'd think you never got a square meal at home," to which Pete promptly retorted, "Well, I wasn't going to let Miss Whimple think I couldn't eat her cooking."
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