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Updated: June 24, 2025
After such joys under Aunt Almira's roof, life at home became insupportable. Mrs. Quimby said it was Almira herself, not the life. Clash followed clash; there came sneers, tears, squabbles, rows, and at last practical banishment. Old Quimby could stand it no longer.
Quimby has come forward, and as the match sends up its last flicker, thrusts the wick against the flame and the candle flares up. It is lighted. Over it they give each other one final appealing stare. There's no help for it now; they must look. Jake's head turned first, then Mrs. Quimby, and then that of the real aggressor. A simultaneous gasp from them all betrays the worst.
"He's touge all the way through. He'll need trimming." "And he'll get it, too," wrathfully promised Midshipman Quimby, who was rated high as a fighter at the Naval Academy. "Now, then, mister, keep your eyes on my humorous face!" It was the next evening, over behind the old government hospital. Midshipman Quimby had just stepped forward, from the hands of his seconds, two men of the third class.
You see, he comes down here and reads his latest chapters to Quimby o' nights, and I've caught quite a lot of it on my way between the cook-stove and the sink." "I ain't no judge of books," remarked Mrs. Norton from a comfortable rocking-chair, "but I'll bet that one's the limit." "You're right, ma'am," Mrs. Quimby told her.
Again Quimby retired, and returned with a generous armful of bedding, which he threw upon the brass bed in the inner room. Then he slowly closed and locked the windows, after which he came and looked down with good-natured contempt at Mr. Magee, who sat in a chair before the fire. "I wouldn't wander round none," he advised. "You might fall down something or something.
Some of them played me as though I'd been a fish. They referred me to other ends of the same big game, laughing in their sleeves, I guess, at the knowledge of how hopeless it was. Oh, they made a fine fool of me." "You might have put down some of your joints at your own expense," suggested the professor. "Didn't I try?" cried Quimby. "Do you think they'd let me?
I been living in these parts, off and on, for sixty years and more, and nothing like this ever came under my observation before. Howsomever, I guess it's all right if Mr. Bentley says so. I'll come up in the morning and see you down to the train." "What train?" inquired Mr. Magee. "Your train back to New York City," replied Mr. Quimby. "Don't try to start back in the night.
"I I it would be a shame to tell you!" sputtered Dalzell between spasms of laughter. Truth to tell, Midshipman Quimby did look funny when he attempted to be over-stern. Quimby's face was one of his sensitive points, anyway. Yet it was not, strictly speaking, the face, but the look of precocious authority on that face which had sent Dan, with his keen sense of humor, off into spasms of laughter.
"Don't you know how to wipe a grin off your face?" "I'm not sure, sir," Dan admitted. "Mister, you are wholly touge! I'm not sure but that you're a ratey plebe as well." Thereupon Youngster Quimby plunged into a scathing lecture on the subject of a plebe being either touge or ratey. At first Dan listened with a becoming air of respect.
She knew, or thought she knew, as do so many of us, just what her neighbor could and should do, but overlooked the fact that old Quimby had two sons and three daughters older than Almira. The fact that most of them were married in no wise detracted from their expectations of material aid from the "old man."
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