s diverse and peculiar, but, as was remarked by a laundress in the crowd to a friend: "He may be the Pope o' Rome, my dear, an' he may be the Dook o' Wellington, an' not a soul here wud know t'other from which no mor'n if he was Adam. All I says is--the Lord send he's a professin' Christian, an' has his linen washed reg'lar. My! What a crush! I only wish my boy Jan was here to see; but he's stayin' at home, my dear, cos his father means to kill the pig to-day, an' the dear child do so love to hear'n screech."
The Admiral, who happened by the merest chance to be sauntering along the Station Road this morning, in his best blue frock-coat with a flower in the buttonhole, corrected some of the rumours, but without much success. Finding the throng so thick, he held a long debate between curiosity and dignity. The latter won, and he returned to No. 2, Alma Villas, in a flutter, some ten minutes before the train was due.
By noon the crowd was growing impatient. But hardly had the church clock chimed th
I'm astonished at how comical this was, never dragging except during the first long tale by Caleb. I was reminded of Twain, and in a good way.
[I ignore stars]
This is wonderful, gentle comedy with endearingly wacky characters. Just like an Ealing Comedy film.
I thought this book was hilarious! I'll likely read it again in a year.
I'm not much on these books of town gossip; I think this the first I've ever finished--says something for the writer and the story he wove. Give it a try, you might like it.
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