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Farnol, Jeffery, 1878-1952

"The Definite Object A Romance of New York"


"'Oly 'eavens!" murmured Mr. Brimberly in a faint voice.
The visitor, settling his bony elbows more comfortably, fanned himself
until his sparse locks waved gently to and fro, and, nodding, spoke
these words:
"Oh, wake thee, oh, wake thee, my bonny bird,
Oh, wake and sleep no more;
Thy pretty pipe I 'ave n't 'eard,
But, lumme, how you snore!"
Mr. Brimberly stared; Mr. Brimberly's mouth opened, and eventually Mr.
Brimberly rose and surveyed the intruder slowly, up from glittering
shoes to the dome of his head and down again; and Mr. Brimberly's ample
bosom surged, his eye kindled, and his whiskers--!
"Cheer-o!" nodded the Old Un.
Mr. Brimberly blinked and pulled down his waistcoat.
"Me good man," said he, "you'll find the tradesmen's entrance round the
corner. Go away, if you please, and go immediate--I'm prehoccupied."
"No, you ain't; you're the butler, you are, I lay my oath--
"'Spoons an' forks
An' drawin' corks'
"that's your job, ain't it, chum?"
"Chum!" said Mr. Brimberly in tones of horror.


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