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Updated: May 7, 2025
What's the use? Every time they lick the good ones they fall down when they stack up against the tail-enders; it's rotten." "Cheer up, William, cheer up! The team will soon be home for another long series, and then they'll soar." "Yes," said William, gloomily, "to the bottom." "You seem to be downhearted; what's the matter?" "Mister Whimple lost a case to-day." "Well, lots of lawyers do that.
Herbert was highly delighted when we shook hands on this arrangement, and said he could now take courage to tell me that he believed he must go away at the end of the week. "And Clara?" said I. "The dear little thing," returned Herbert, "holds dutifully to her father as long as he lasts; but he won't last long. Mrs. Whimple confides to me that he is certainly going."
"Gee!" said William, and then "Say, honest, Mister Whimple, has she gotter bunch of servants?" "No only two." "A butler?" "No no, a maid, and a man who looks after the grounds and the horse and that kind of work." "Gosh, I'm glad of that.
"But, see here, my boy," said the manager, "there's big money in it for you say " William, however, was already at the door, and Whimple, not wholly understanding what lay behind Epstein's murmured, "Sorry but I'll have to explain later," followed him. The manager was talking now to Tommy. "Flo Dearmore wants to see you, Mr. Watson," he said. "Do you know her?" Tommy nodded.
One afternoon, a few days afterwards, Whimple, dropping into Tommy Watson's store, found the auctioneer and "Chuck" Epstein gravely examining a doll's carriage and its occupant, a doll eminently respectable in mien and terrifically blue of eye. "Is this a new line, Tommy?" Whimple asked. "No it's 'Chuck's' purchase, he intends to present the outfit to a young lady."
They began to feel more at home when Miss Whimple suggested a tour of the grounds, and a visit to the barn to see the cows, two fine Jerseys, and presently they began to talk to her and to one another with freedom, all but Dolly.
"You're wrong, Miss Whimple," he answered, and there was earnestness in his tone. "I like people I know to be well most of them anyway." "You don't care whether the others are or not?" "Well, some of 'em some of 'em. You see there's a few wouldn't know what to do with themselves if they was well, and the others well, never mind 'em." That was a rare luncheon.
And I knew he was serious about it, too, though, like a foolish old woman, I must needs go on to tell him that a boy of his age ought to have a real sweetheart. Well, presently he became very quiet, his mouth set firmly, as it does when he is thinking hard, and he looked straight at me. 'Miss Whimple, you know what real love is, he said.
William had engaged himself to work for Mr. Charles Whimple, "barrister, etc.," just one week previously in response to that gentleman's advertisement for "a bright and intelligent office boy; one who knows the city well." When he arrived at the office on the morning after the insertion of the advertisement, Whimple found William busily engaged in dusting off the lone table in his room.
"To Dolly Turnpike," said Epstein quietly, "it's her birthday to-morrow; what do you think of it?" Whimple examined the carriage and the doll as closely and as gravely as the others had done, and expressed the opinion that it was all right.
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