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Updated: May 31, 2025
Wiggett, a sharp-featured little man, was doing most of the talking, while his rival, a stout, clean-shaven man with a slow, oxlike eye, looked on stolidly. Mr. Miller was seldom in a hurry, and lost many a bargain through his slowness a fact which sometimes so painfully affected the individual who had outdistanced him that he would offer to let him have it at a still lower figure.
"I don't know how," said his friend. "Tidger told me, but made me promise not to tell a soul. But I couldn't help telling you, Wiggett, 'cause I know what you're after." "Do me a favour," said the little man. "I will," said the other. "Keep it from Miller as long as possible. If you hear any one else talking of it, tell 'em to keep it from him. If he marries her I'll give you a couple of pints."
"You get younger than ever, Mrs. Pullen," said Wiggett, the conversation having turned upon ages. "Young ain't the word for it," said Miller, with a praiseworthy determination not to be left behind. "No; it's age as you're thinking of, Mr. Wiggett," said the carpenter, slowly; "none of us gets younger, do we, Ann?" "Some of us keeps young in our ways," said Mrs. Pullen, somewhat shortly.
Wiggett, a sharp-featured little man, was doing most of the talking, while his rival, a stout, clean-shaven man with a slow, oxlike eye, looked on stolidly. Mr. Miller was seldom in a hurry, and lost many a bargain through his slowness a fact which sometimes so painfully affected the individual who had outdistanced him that he would offer to let him have it at a still lower figure.
"How old should you say Ann is now?" persisted the watchful Tidger. Mr. Wiggett shook his head. "I should say she's about fifteen years younger nor me," he said, slowly, "and I'm as lively as a cricket." "She's fifty-five," said the carpenter. "That makes you seventy, Wiggett," said Mr. Miller, pointedly. "I thought you was more than that. You look it." Mr. Wiggett coughed sourly.
"You get younger than ever, Mrs. Pullen," said Wiggett, the conversation having turned upon ages. "Young ain't the word for it," said Miller, with a praiseworthy determination not to be left behind. "No; it's age as you're thinking of, Mr. Wiggett," said the carpenter, slowly; "none of us gets younger, do we, Ann?" "Some of us keeps young in our ways," said Mrs. Pullen, somewhat shortly.
That gentleman, who was apparently deep in some knotty problem, was gazing at the floor, and oblivious for the time to his surroundings. "Come along," said Wiggett, with feigned heartiness, slapping him on the back. Mr.
He thought of Wiggett walking the earth a free man, and of Smith with a three-months' bill for twenty pounds. His pride as a dealer was shattered beyond repair, and emerging from a species of mist, he became conscious that the carpenter was addressing him. "We'll leave you two young things alone for a bit," said Mr. Tidger, heartily. "We're going out.
Smith allowed the better feelings of our common human nature to prevail to the extent of reducing his demands to half a dozen fowls on account, and all the rest on the day of the marriage. Then, with the delightful feeling that he wouldn't do any work for a week, he went out to drop poison into the ears of Mr. Wiggett. "Lost all her money!" said the startled Mr. Wiggett. "How?"
"How old should you say Ann is now?" persisted the watchful Tidger. Mr. Wiggett shook his head. "I should say she's about fifteen years younger nor me," he said, slowly, "and I'm as lively as a cricket." "She's fifty-five," said the carpenter. "That makes you seventy, Wiggett," said Mr. Miller, pointedly. "I thought you was more than that. You look it." Mr. Wiggett coughed sourly.
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