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Updated: June 29, 2025
Captain Baster sank heavily on to a chair and instantly sprang up from it with a howl as he chanced on several tokens of the gorse-bush's clinging affection. "I've been stoned stoned by some hulking scoundrels on the common!" he cried; and he displayed the considerable bump rising on his marble brow. Mrs.
Erebus gazed at him with murderous eyes, and said in a sinister tone: "Oh, I helped to get it." At seven o'clock Captain Baster took his leave to dine at his inn. Of his own accord he promised faithfully to return at nine sharp. He left the house a proud and happy man, for he knew that he had been shining before Mrs. Dangerfield with uncommon brilliance.
Dangerfield with her delightful smile. "I know you keep them out of mischief." "It's generally all over before I come," said Wiggins somewhat glumly; and of a sudden it occurred to him to spurn the earth. "I've not had that kiss yet, Terebus. I'm going to have it this time I'm here," said Captain Baster playfully; and he laughed his rich laugh.
Since the so-called tailor is no tailor at all, but a "button-holer" or "baster," it is obvious that the working of such a system requires some one capable of general direction. This opinion is not, however, inconsistent with the belief that such work of "direction" or "organization" may be paid on a scale wholly out of proportion to the real worth of the services performed.
Dangerfield kept Captain Baster waiting; it gave the purple tinge, which was heightening his floridness somewhat painfully, time to fade. When she did come to him, he was further annoyed by the fact that Erebus came too, and with a truculent air announced her intention of accompanying them. Mrs. Dangerfield was surprised; Erebus seldom showed any taste for such a gentle occupation.
The baster may be a skilled woman; the presser is always a man, the irons weighing from seven to eighteen pounds, and the work being of the most exhausting description, no man being able to continue it beyond eight or ten years at the utmost. The sweater-employer often begins by being his own presser, or his own baster; but as business increases his personal labor lessens.
"I always eat more somehow," said the Terror with a grave smile. They walked slowly across the common, a protecting twin on either side of Mrs. Dangerfield; and Captain Baster, in the strong facetious vein, enlivened the walk with his delightful humor.
Displaying an injured air, she took the ground that Captain Baster was not really a guest on the previous evening, since he was making a descent on the house uninvited, and therefore he did not come within the sphere of the laws of hospitality. "Besides he never behaved like a guest," she went on in a bitterly aggrieved tone.
To organize the establishment all that is necessary is a baster, a machinist, a presser, and two or three women-workers, one for button-holing, one for felling, and one for general work, carrying home, etc.
Dangerfield with an illuminating flash of womanly intuition. "You've been humorous with some of the villagers!" "No, no! I haven't joked with a single one of them!" cried Captain Baster. "But I'll teach the scoundrels a lesson! I'll put the police on them tomorrow morning. I'll send for a detective from London. I'll prosecute them."
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