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Updated: June 13, 2025
Mowbray professed to be the enemy and the master of Wiggins. Her remembrance of Wiggins's look of hate made her think that this was true. But Mrs. Dunbar she did not believe to be an enemy of Mowbray's; and the porter, who was the incorruptible servant of Wiggins, seemed equally devoted to Mowbray. She recalled also Mowbray's words to herself in explanation of his own course.
"A great, mustached, dirty, palavering foreigner, who's probably got a harem at home and no respect for women!" Tish glanced at my sheaf and at the centerpiece. She was dressed as she always dressed on Mr. Wiggins's day in black; but she had a new lace collar with a jabot, and we knew where she had got it. She saw our eyes on it and she had the grace to flush.
I told Hannah at noon to-day that's what delayed me to give him his lunch. He was starving; I thought we'd never fill him. And when it was over, he stooped in the sweetest way, while she was gathering up the empty dishes, and kissed her hand. It was touching!" "Very!" I said dryly. "What did Hannah do?" "She's a fool! She broke a cup on his head." Mr. Wiggins's anniversary was not a success.
The stories I like best are Bolivar Wiggins's story about 'Solemn Sophy' and his other one about 'Bertie's Balloon. Have you any more stories by him? I must close now, so good-bye. Your cow is beautiful, and perhaps some day it will appear in this column. Watch carefully, and maybe you will see it. "Ah!" said Partington, softly, as he read these effusions.
Dunbar in an odious position in Edith's eyes. "Mr. Wiggins's plans are of no consequence to me whatever," said she, coldly. "They are; they are of immense importance," cried Mrs. Dunbar. Edith looked at her for a few moments with a cold stare of wonder, for this volunteered advice seemed something like insolence, coming thus from a subordinate.
"We must go in the brougham, and we must quit this." Miss Plympton hesitated, and the maid, who was still more terrified, clasped her hands in silent despair. But the porter, who had heard all, now spoke. "Beg pardon, miss," said he, "but that lady needn't trouble about it. It's Mr. Wiggins's orders, miss, that on'y you are to go to the Hall."
He always picks out the most comfortable chair, and then feels very much injured if we turn him out. I like Bolivar Wiggins's story in your last paper very much. Are you going to have any more stories by Bolivar Wiggins? "Your little friend, "HELEN CHECKERBY, aged seven. Wiggins, Helen. We wish we could see your cat. He seems a very sensible cat.
Wiggins's falling off a roof and breaking his neck, Tish was late in arriving, and I found Aggie sitting alone, dressed in black, with a tissue-paper bundle in her lap. I put my sheaf on the table and untied my bonnet-strings. "Where's Tish?" I asked. "Not here yet." Something in Aggie's tone made me look at her. She was eyeing the bundle in her lap.
"Ay, ay," said Jack; "he quite forgets when the bullets were scuttling our nobs off Cape Ushant, when that big Frenchman had hold of him by the skirf of his neck, and began pummelling his head, and the lee scuppers were running with blood, and a bit of Joe Wiggins's brains had come slap in my eye, while some of Jack Marling's guts was hanging round my neck like a nosegay, all in consequence of grape-shot then he didn't say as I was a swab, when I came up, and bored a hole in the Frenchman's back with a pike.
It's one of them cheap, cut-rate joints, you know, with the windows plastered all over with daily bargain hints, "Three pounds of Wiggins's best creamery butter for 97 cents to-day only," "Canned corn, 6 cents our big Monday special," and so on. Aunty sniffs a bit, but fin'lly decides to take a chance and sails in in all her grandeur.
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