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Rh rocking, rocking, now-a-days. Following on, again, is Old Tom Donaldson, Clancy, Dowd, and—Old Lady Flanagan, with “this dom thing I calls hoosband!” And lastly, Marian and old Pat Ryan from our railway station’s trunk room.

So it was just laugh, talk, “stuff,” and—

Oh, hum! Folks can’t stay all night, you know; so, finally, groups and pairs, drifting out, all had happy words for His Honor and Lady Gadsby; and His Honor, a word or two; for you know Gadsby can talk? So it was;—

“Good night, Nina; good luck, Old Bill! Oh! say, Bill; will that cigar blow up? Good night, Virginia; and ta-ta Patricia; and Virginia, you mind your Ma and stay down on solid ground! Aha, Clancy! You old motor-pump fan! No; that’s wrong; animal-drawn pump! Good night, Pastor Brown; so glad you put Norman in your choir. And now Old Tom and Sarah! Tom, you look as young as on that day on which you brought Sarah, just a tiny, squalling, fist-waving bunch, to this porch to ask about adoption! And I know Sarah has always had a kind, loving Dad. Paul, you young sprout! As you turn into a daddy, soon now, you’ll find that,