Digital primer

Jog here thinking of her
sister Mrs. Springwheat, who, she used to say, had married a mere farmer.
'I tell you, Jog, you're far too humble, you don't think half enough of
yourself.'
'Well, but, my (puff) dear, you don't (puff) consider that all people ain't
(puff) fond of (wheeze) children,' observed Jogglebury, after a pause.
'Indeed, I've (puff) observed that some (wheeze) don't like them.'
'Oh, but those will be nasty little brats, like Mrs. James Wakenshaw's, or
Mrs. Tom Cheek's. But such children as ours! such charmers! such delights!
there isn't a man in the county, from the Lord-Lieutenant downwards, who
wouldn't be proud--who wouldn't think it a compliment--to be asked to be
god-papa to such children. I tell you what, Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey, it
would be far better to get them rich god-papas and god-mammas than to leave
them a whole house full of sticks.'
'Well, but, my (puff) dear, the (wheeze) sticks will prove very (wheeze)
hereafter,' replied Jogglebury, bridling up at the imputation on his hobby.
'I _hope_ so,' replied Mrs.


Pages:
606 607 608 609 610 611 612 613 614 615 616 617 618 619 620 621 622 623 624 625 626 627 628 629 630