Prize Money - Sailor's Knots, Part 10. by W. W. Jacobs
page 2 of 17 (11%)
page 2 of 17 (11%)
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table with the handle of his knife, explained that he had been informed
by a man outside that his companion was the bitterest teetotaller in Claybury. "That's one o' Bob Pretty's larks," said the old man, flushing. "I see you talking to 'im, and I thought as 'ow he warn't up to no good. Biggest rascal in Claybury, he is. I've said so afore, and I'll say so agin." He bowed to the donor and buried his old face in the mug. "A poacher!" he said, taking breath. "A thief!" he continued, after another draught. "I wonder whether Smith spilt any of this a-carrying of it in?" He put down the empty mug and made a careful examination of the floor, until a musical rapping on the table brought the landlord into the room again. "My best respects," he said, gratefully, as he placed the mug on the settle by his side and slowly filled a long clay pipe. Next time you see Bob Pretty ask 'im wot happened to the prize hamper. He's done a good many things has Bob, but it'll be a long time afore Claybury men'll look over that. It was Henery Walker's idea. Henery 'ad been away to see an uncle of 'is wife's wot had money and nobody to leave it to--leastways, so Henery thought when he wasted his money going over to see 'im--and he came back full of the idea, which he 'ad picked up from the old man. |
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