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Updated: May 26, 2025
"Drop it for me. The bottle's there. Three drops. In water. D that is, confound Higgins! There's nobody in this house cares if I die here in this chair for want of attention." Mrs. Widdup sighed deeply. "Don't be saying that, sir," she said. "There's them that would care more than any one knows. Thirteen drops, you said, sir?" "Three," said old man Coulson. He took his dose and then Mrs.
Widdup's hand. She blushed. Oh, yes, it can be done. Just hold your breath and compress the diaphragm. "Mrs. Widdup," said Mr. Coulson, "the springtime's full upon us." "Ain't that right?" said Mrs. Widdup. "The air's real warm. And there's bock-beer signs on every corner. And the park's all yaller and pink and blue with flowers; and I have such shooting pains up my legs and body."
This May, who is no goddess, but Circe, masquerading at the dance given in honour of the fair debutante, Summer, puts the kibosh on us all. Old Mr. Coulson groaned a little, and then sat up straight in his invalid's chair. He had the gout very bad in one foot, a house near Gramercy Park, half a million dollars and a daughter. And he had a housekeeper, Mrs. Widdup.
A little later than that Mrs. Widdup entered the invalid's room. "Did you ring, Sir?" she asked, dimpling in many places. "I asked Higgins to go to the drug store, and I thought I heard your bell." "I did not," said Mr. Coulson. "I'm afraid," said Mrs. Widdup, "I interrupted you sir, yesterday when you were about to say something." "How comes it, Mrs.
Freely as an alighting dove the bill fluttered to the Justice's table. Her sallow cheek coloured as she stood hand in hand with Ransie and listened to the reuniting words. Ransie helped her into the cart, and climbed in beside her. The little red bull turned once more, and they set out, hand-clasped, for the mountains. Justice-of-the-peace Benaja Widdup sat in his door and took off his shoes.
I've got a month's salary down on Vanilla to win the three-year-old steeplechase to-morrow; and if the ice-cream hunch is to the good you are It again see?" Justice-of-the-Peace Benaja Widdup sat in the door of his office smoking his elder-stem pipe. Half-way to the zenith the Cumberland range rose blue-gray in the afternoon haze.
Never trust May. Mr. Coulson twisted the ends of his white mustache, cursed his foot, and pounded a bell on the table by his side. In came Mrs. Widdup. She was comely to the eye, fair, flustered, forty and foxy. "Higgins is out, sir," she said, with a smile suggestive of vibratory massage. "He went to post a letter. Can I do anything for you, sir?" "It's time for my aconite," said old Mr. Coulson.
Widdup, and stood by his chair. Mr. Coulson reached his bony hand and grasped her plump one. "Mrs. Widdup," he said, "this house would be no home without you. I have half a million dollars. If that and the true affection of a heart no longer in its youthful prime, but still not cold, could " "I found out what made it cold," said Mrs. Widdup, leanin' against his chair.
Coulson's gouty foot. "I thought Higgins was with you," said Miss Van Meeker Constantia. "Higgins went out," explained her father, "and Mrs. Widdup answered the bell. That is better now, Mrs. Widdup, thank you. No; there is nothing else I require." The housekeeper retired, pink under the cool, inquiring stare of Miss Coulson.
"This spring weather is lovely, isn't it, daughter?" said the old man, consciously conscious. "That's just it," replied Miss Van Meeker Constantia Coulson, somewhat obscurely. "When does Mrs. Widdup start on her vacation, papa?" "I believe she said a week from to-day," said Mr. Coulson.
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