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Ford, Sewell, 1868-1946

"Wilt Thou Torchy"

"I do hope you won't
mind Cyril."
"Mind who?" says Vee.
"He--he's our butler," explains Westy. "I suppose he's a very good
butler, too--the man at the employment agency said he was; but--er--"
"I'm sure he is," puts in Doris, "even if he does look a little odd.
Then there is his name--Cyril Snee. Of course, Cyril doesn't sound
just right for a butler, does it? But Snee is so--so--"
"Isn't it?" says Vee. "I should call him Cyril."
"We started in that way," says Doris, "but he asked us not to; said he
preferred to be called Snee. It was unusual, and besides he had
private reasons. So between ourselves we speak of him as Cyril, and to
his face-- Well, I suppose we shall get used to saying Snee, though--
Why, where can he be? I've rung twice and-- Oh, here he comes!"
And, believe me, when Doris described him as lookin' a little odd she's
said sumpun. Cyril was all of that. As far as figures goes he's big
and impressive enough, with sort of a dignified bulge around the
equator. But that face of his, with the white showin' through the
pink, and the pink showin' through the white in the most unexpected
places! Like a scraped radish. No, that don't give you the idea of
his color scheme exactly. Say a half parboiled baby.


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