but the phenomenon was so striking and disturbing that his philosophical tranquillity vanished;
It lifted to a spasmodic sneeze and ended.
The eighth chapter is exceedingly brief
“But they take long enough to get well, don’t they?… There was my sister’s son, Tom, jest cut his arm with a scythe, tumbled on it in the ’ayfield, and, bless me! he was three months tied up sir. You’d hardly believe it. It’s regular given me a dread of a scythe, sir.”
But they take long enough to get well, don’t they?… There was my sister’s son, Tom, jest cut his arm with a scythe, tumbled on it in the ’ayfield, and, bless me! he was three months tied up sir. You’d hardly believe it. It’s regular given me a dread of a scythe, sir.”
me tea, Teddy Henfrey, the clock-jobber,
