"
"Well, OLDY," said OCTAVIUS, with dismal countenance, "do you think
we'll have to do it?"
"Do what?" asked the old lady.
"Let him Insure us."
"I'm afraid it will come to that yet, OCTAVE. I've known persons to die
under him."
"Well, well, Heaven's will be done," muttered the patient Gospeler. "And
now, mother, we must do something to make the first coming of these
young strangers seem cheerful to them. We must give a little
dinner-party here, and invite Miss CAROWTHERS, and BUMSTEAD and his
nephew, and the Flowerpot. Don't you think the codfish will go round?"
"Yes, dear: that is, if you and I take the spine," replied the old lady.
So the party of reception was arranged, and the invitations hurried out.
At about half an hour before dinner there was a sound in the air of
Bumsteadville as of a powerful stump-speaker addressing a mass-meeting
in the distance; rapidly intensifying to stentorian phrases, such
as--"provide for your miserable surviving offspring"--"lower rates than
any other company"--"full amount cheerfully paid upon hearing of your
death"--until a hack appeared coming down the crossroad descending into
Gospeler's Gulch, and stopped at the Gospeler's door.
Pages:
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30