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Chapter 6 MY FIRST GLIMPSE OF THE CHART.

Word Count: 1708    |    Released on: 30/11/2017

Goodfellow, nodding affabl

thank you, sir

you come from,

I was a boarder

long and flexible plank from a stack laid lengthwise in the alley-way along the base of the wall, lifted it, set it on three trestles, and began to measure and mark it off. "She's calculated

s,

own to the Barbican. That's her conscientiousness, instead of sitting at home and living o

ellow, after a pause, "I know

s,

e th

, s

to be di

f you. You can't miss it, because it has a plaster-of-Paris cow in the window, and

d eager to compare notes with him on the Royal Ma

a's worth it. That's the best of bein' in love; it makes you want to do things.

, s

in coddling. Nobody ever coddled Nelson, and yet what happened?" He shut one eye, put hi

g Captain Coffin. "Give me a shilling to put it righ

wered Captain Coffin, "and I'm not

low-roofed house about three miles this side of St. Germans village, with a thatch on

-curls opened the door, and after the job was done took me into the parlour an' gave me a jugful of cider over and above the sixpence charged. I believe she'd have made it a shillin', too, only when I told he

on, I mean. You didn't catch s

on? Well, then, by all accounts you've got a thunderin' good father. Old English gentleman, straight is a ramrod-pays his way, fears God and honours the King- such was the l

hat my father pays for his house!" said I, my

ort, but he had walked indoors, no doubt

ney. Why, just take a look at my business card!" He stepped to his coat, pulled one from his pocket, and glanced over it proudly: 'George Goodfellow, Carpenter and Decorater-Cabinet Making in all its Branches-Repairs neatly executed-Funerals and Shipping supplied-Practical Valuer, and for Probate-Fire Office claim

ht say. I never see a house, now-leastways, a house that takes my fancy-but I want to be measuring it an' planning out the furnicher, an' the rent, an' where to stow the firewood, an' sitting down cosy in it along w

eems ver

fellow tapped his forehand with the end of hi

think

l of the drink. The tale is he gets his money out o' Government- a sort of pension. Was mixed up in the Spithead Mutiny, by one account, an' turned informer; but there's another tale he earned it b

talk at this point by appearing and announcing from the back

ver graced the table of Copenhagen Academy. But the dulcet, peculiar taste of guava-jelly is what I associate in memory with that delectable meal; and to this day I cannot taste the flavour of guava but I find myself back in Captain Coffin's sitting-room, cutting a third

ng like tea to pull a man round from the

n a sudden impulse. His left hand closed upon it and partly covered it fo

ered hoarsely. "Br

covered it, unfolded an inner parcel of parchm

iles broad at the widest point. At the north end of the island, around a promontory called Gable Point, there were five small islands called The Keys. To the south was a wide inlet with a ship seemingly in the act of sailing t

n light was falling dim, and I stood up to walk around the edge of the table for a better look. As I pushed back my chair he clutched his

ok me sudden. But my promise I've passed, and

ar Mr. Goodfellow, the slave of lov

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