Harper's New Monthly Magazine Volume 109 June to November 1904 . the drawing-room. Mrs. Tarrant, observing their move-ments with horror: But where are yougoing? Come back! Are you all going? The Assistant Painters, together, asbefore: Tags, lady, tags. Mrs. Tarran t, vjildly: But it doesnttake three men to buy one paper oftacks! Let him go alone! The Boss Painter, reassuringly: Thatsall right, madam, we will come we must have tacks. Yes, shall be all finished. Come, George. He passes out of the hall door, followedclosely by one Assistant bearing thepails. The other, who rese


Harper's New Monthly Magazine Volume 109 June to November 1904 . the drawing-room. Mrs. Tarrant, observing their move-ments with horror: But where are yougoing? Come back! Are you all going? The Assistant Painters, together, asbefore: Tags, lady, tags. Mrs. Tarran t, vjildly: But it doesnttake three men to buy one paper oftacks! Let him go alone! The Boss Painter, reassuringly: Thatsall right, madam, we will come we must have tacks. Yes, shall be all finished. Come, George. He passes out of the hall door, followedclosely by one Assistant bearing thepails. The other, who resembles an ani-mated bundle of soiled cloth, is inter-cepted by Mrs. Tarrant, who imploreshim: Why must you go ? Its too ab-surd ! Three men for a five-cent paper oftacks! Cant you stay? The Assistant Painter, placidly: Yemust mind der boss, lady. All right. Icome again, sure. He slips out of thedoor, nodding at her. Ye must go howder boss says. Tags, lady, tags! Mrs. Tarrant sinks again into the Mor- men Theres no usePerhaps theyllDid you catch Theyd gone Theyve gone to buy a Paper of Tacks ris chair, staring hopelessly at the the hall door is flung openand Mr. Tarrant bursts into the room,exclaiming: Werent those our paintersI met? Whats the matter? Mrs. Tarrant: Yes, they gone to buy a paper of tacks. Mr. Tarrant: A paper— Mrs. Tarrant: Yes. They must havetacks. Mr. Tarran t, angrily: Threefor— Mrs. Tarrant, calmly: I couldnt keepthem here by force,in fussing about back—sometime,the dray? Mr. Tarrant: telephoned em, though. Mrs. Tarrant: Well, maybe theyllget here. Then -with an air of patientremonstrance: Dick dear, if we dontget to work at something, the morningwill just have been wasted. Why dontyou see whats in the next box? Mr. Tarrant, dazed but obedient,reaches up and into the next box, whichis covered with newspaper only, andproduces a nutmeg-grater and a muffin-ring. He looks plaintively at hiswife: You dont want me


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