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"Allonby, gentlemen," said the most comfortable of
landladies, as she opened one door of the carriage;
"Allonby, gentlemen," said the most attentive of landlords,
as he opened the other.
Thomas Idle yielded his arm to the ready Goodchild, and
descended from the vehicle. Thomas, now just able to grope
his way along, in a doubled-up condition, with the aid of
two thick sticks, was no bad embodiment of Commodore
Trunnion, or one of those many gallant Admirals of the
stage, who have all ample fortunes, gout, thick-sticks,
tempers, wards, and nephews. With this distinguished naval
appearance upon him, Thomas made a crab-like progress up a
clean little bulk-headed staircase, into a clean little
bulk-headed room, where he slowly deposited himself on a
sofa, with a stick on either hand of him, looking
exceedingly grim.
"Francis," said Thomas Idle, "what do you think of this
place?"
"I think," returned Mr. Goodchild, in a glowing way, "it is
everything we expected."
"Hah!" said Thomas Idle.
"There is the sea," cried Mr. Goodchild, pointing out the
window, "and here," pointing to the lunch on the table, "are
shrimps. Let us -" here Mr. Goodchild looked out of the
window, as if in search of something, and looked again, -
"let us eat 'em."
The shrimps eaten and the dinner ordered, Mr. Godchild went
out to survey the watering-place. A Chorus of the Drama,
without whom Thomas could make nothing of the scenery, he
by-and-by returned, to have the following report screwed out
of him.
In brief, it was the most delightful place ever seen.
"But," Thomas Idle asked, "where is it?"
"It's what you may call generally up and down the beach,
here and there," said Mr. Goodchild, with a twist of his
hand.
"Proceed," said Thomas Idle.
It was, Mr. Goodchild went on to say, in cross-examination,
what you might call a primitive place. Large? No, it was not
large. Who ever expected it would be large? Shape? What a
question to ask! No shape. What sort of a street? Why, no
street. Shops? Yes, of course (quite indignant). How
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