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Waddy was always on hand to wake the smouldering fires of suspicion in Mrs. Bent's bosom and to contribute generally to the peace and comfort of the hotel. Mr. Bent's life was not a happy one, for if Mrs. Waddy's story were true, he was, argued his wife, untrustworthy to the last degree.
A loud knock at the door had brought on the poor creature's palpitations. This visitor was no other than Prince Ernest. The name on his card was Graf von Delzenburg, and it set my heart leaping to as swift a measure as Mrs. Waddy's. Hearing that I was in the house, he desired to see me. We met, with a formal bow.
She had always known there would be things she couldn't give him. She would go on seeing more and more of them. Odd that she didn't feel any moral indignation. It had been too funny, like catching a child in some amusing naughtiness; and, as poor Waddy's eyes and open mouth had intimated, she had had no business to catch him, to know anything about it, no business to be there.
All the fresh eggs, and the butter stamped, with three bees, and the pots of honey, the fowls, and the hare lifted out of the hamper by his hind legs, and the country loaves smelling heavenly, which used to come to Mrs. Waddy's address in London, and appear on my father's table, were products of Dipwell farm, and presents from her sister, Martha Thresher.
For my part, I missed the monuments and the chants, and something besides that had gone I knew not what. At the first indication of gloom in me, my father became alarmed, and, after making me stand with my tongue out before himself and Mrs. Waddy, like a dragon in a piece of tapestry, would resume his old playfulness, and try to be the same that he had been in Mrs. Waddy's lodgings.
He saw in half a moment that this must be Mark Waddy's pal; but as the police like to go their own way he would not watch the lawn himself, but asked Jem Davies, with whom he had made acquaintance, to keep an eye upon that with his fellows, for there was a jail-bird in the house; then he went round to the front door, by which he felt sure his bird would make his exit.
Waddy's own goats were many and various, but the invasion had quadrupled them, and goats were everywhere bold, hungry, predatory goats browsing, sleeping, battling, thieving, and filling the air with incessant pleadings.
"Of course," says Llanders, "if you young gentlemen are on official business, it makes a difference." "Then let's hurry along," says Waddy, startin' impatient. "Dressed like that?" says Llanders, starin' at Waddy's Fifth Avenue costume. "I take it you've not been underground before, sir?" "Only in the subway," says Waddy. "You'll find a coal mine quite unlike the subway," says Llanders.
Waddy's saying, 'Here, Master Harry, your own papa will come for you; and you may be sure he will, for I have his word he will, and he's not one to break it, unless his country's against him; and for his darling boy he'd march against cannons. So here you'll sit and wait for him, won't you? I sat down immediately, looking up. Mrs. Waddy and Mrs. Thresher raised their hands.
'Who stole the goats? she screamed, and, receiving no answer, screamed the question from house to house. 'Waddy's a township of thieves an' hussies! she cried, 'thieves an' hussies! Gimme me goats or I'll have the law on you all you low, mean stealers an' robbers, ye! Who stole the goats? Who came by night an' robbed a decent widdy woman of her beautiful goats? Who? Who? Who?
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