Post by Flarga on Jul 9, 2008 11:01:17 GMT -6
It was already Thursday, but his lordship's artificial limb could not be found; therefore, having directed the servants to fill the baths, he seized the tongs and set out at once for the edge of the lake, where the Throbblefoot Spectre still loitered in a distraught manner.
He presented it with a length of string and passed on to the statue of Corrupted Endeavour to await the arrival of autumn.
Meanwhile, on the tower, Madame O______ in conversation with an erstwhile cousin saw that his moustache was not his own, on which she flung herself over the parapet and surreptitiously vanished.
He descended, destroying the letter unread, and stepped backwards into the water for a better view.
Heavens, how dashing! cried the people in the dinghy, and Echo answered: Count the sthingys!
On the shore a bat, or possibly an umbrella, disengaged itself from the shrubbery, causing those nearby to recollect the miseries of childhood.
It now became apparent (despite the lack of library paste) that something had happened to the vicar; guns began to go off in the distance.
At twilight, however, no message had come from the asylum, so the others retired to the kiosk, only to discover the cakes iced a peculiar shade of green and the tea-urn empty save for a card on which was written a single word: Farewell.
He presented it with a length of string and passed on to the statue of Corrupted Endeavour to await the arrival of autumn.
Meanwhile, on the tower, Madame O______ in conversation with an erstwhile cousin saw that his moustache was not his own, on which she flung herself over the parapet and surreptitiously vanished.
He descended, destroying the letter unread, and stepped backwards into the water for a better view.
Heavens, how dashing! cried the people in the dinghy, and Echo answered: Count the sthingys!
On the shore a bat, or possibly an umbrella, disengaged itself from the shrubbery, causing those nearby to recollect the miseries of childhood.
It now became apparent (despite the lack of library paste) that something had happened to the vicar; guns began to go off in the distance.
At twilight, however, no message had come from the asylum, so the others retired to the kiosk, only to discover the cakes iced a peculiar shade of green and the tea-urn empty save for a card on which was written a single word: Farewell.