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Updated: June 9, 2025
'More's been lost on market-days, as they say: our little girl's well provided for, for old Jarvis, 'e's a warm man. 'She won't 'ave a day's peace all 'er life, says I, 'goin' empty-'anded into that 'ouse. I know old Mother Jarvis a cat: we'd best tell the child, p'raps she won't marry 'im if she knows she's nothing to take to 'im, and, God forgive me, my 'eart jumped up at the thought.
"They they 'aven't found 'im yet?" said the widow. Mr. Kidd shook his head. "My idea is they won't find 'im," he said, slowly. "Went down on the ebb tide," explained Mr. Brown; and spoilt Mr. Kidd's opening. "Wherever he is 'e's better off," said Mrs. Gibbs. "No more trouble about being out o' work; no more worry; no more pain. We've all got to go some day. "Yes," began Mr. Kidd; "but
Bimby, now, a nice little gent, but doleful like 'is flute, 'e's always 'ungry 'e is, I'll take my oath shouldn't wonder if 'e don't come to it one o' these days. And talking of 'im I must be going, sir, and thank you kindly, I'm sure." "Why, then," said Barnabas as she bobbed him another curtsy, "will you ask Mr. Bimby if he will do me the pleasure to step down and take supper with me?"
"But what else?" urged Coolin. "Nothin' about a drame at all?" "Who's talkin' about dreams!" said Bagshot. "'E wasn't no bloomin' poet. 'E was a man. What 'e said 'e said like a man. 'E said 'e'd got word from Mary which is proper that a man should do when 'e's a-chuckin' of 'is tent-pegs. If 'e ain't got no mother an' Connor 'adn't 'is wife or 'is sweetheart 'as the honour."
Dollops is a-follerin' wherever you lead, and if you chooses 'ell itself, well, 'e's ready ter be roasted and fried in the devil's saucepan, so long as 'e keeps yer company." Without waiting for the end of this gallant, if rather prolonged speech Cleek knelt down, set his two hands upon the iron ring and pulled for all he was worth.
He did not look at the body again, but when he had recovered a little, still without a word to any one and with his eyes grave and without expression, he moved to the corner where his clothes lay. "'E's not dead." "No give 'im room there, he's moving," and from the back of the crowd the Fool's silly face, peering over... Peter crept unnoticed to the door.
'Well, wot do you think of it? he said as he served them with what they required. 'Think of what? asked Easton. 'Why, hour speshul hartist, replied Crass with a sneer. 'Do you think 'e's goin' to get through with it? 'Shouldn't like to say, replied Easton guardedly.
My brother says 'e's going to paint them sort when 'e gets them colours what you squeezes out of tubes; you know, like them ladies' tormenters, same as you gets on Bank 'olidays on 'Ampstead 'Eath." "Oh, is it," she said; "come along, Halbert." Then, turning to me, she added "Are yer comin' to-morrer? I'd like yer to see my brother's paintin's."
And then," said Jones, as he named the greatest point in the M.O.'s favour, "'e's the best forward on a wet day as ever I seed." Just at that moment a voice sounded from farther up the trench. "Simpson," it said, "where the deuce is my toothbrush?" "Jest comin', sir. I've got 'un," answered "Pongo" Simpson as he produced a greasy-looking toothbrush from his pocket.
This chap" I listened as might a prisoner in the dock to the argument of counsel, interested but impotent "don't know enough to come in out of the rain, as the saying is. 'E's just the sort of chap this sort of thing does 'appen to." "But he don't want her," urged Minikin. "He says he don't want her." "Yes, to you and me," answered Jarman; "and of course 'e don't.
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