R Austin Freeman

Mr Polton Explains R Austin Freeman

DRAT that clock!" exclaimed my Aunt Judy. "Saturday night, too. Of course, it would choose Saturday night to stop."She looked up malevolently at the stolid face and the motionless pendulum that hung straight down like a plumb-bob, and then, as she hopped up on a chair to lift the clock off its nail, she continued: "Get me the bellows, Nat."I extricated myself with some difficulty from the little arm-chair. For dear Uncle Gollidge had over looked the fact that boys grow and chairs do not, so that it was now a rather tight fit with a tendency to become, like a snail's shell, a permanent attachment. The separation accomplished, I took the bellows from the hook beside the fire-place and went to my aunt's assistance; she having, in her quick, brisk way, unhooked the pendulum and opened the little side doors of the case. Then I held the clock steady on the table while she plied the bellows with the energy of a village blacksmith, blowing out a most encouraging cloud of dust through the farther door-opening."We will see what that will do," said she, slapping the little doors to, fastening the catches and hooking on the pendulum. Once more she sprang up on the chair, replaced the dock on its nail, gave the pendulum a persuasive pat, and descended.