Betwixt and Between. Jessica Stilling

he asked and Mrs. Darling nearly sighed. He was always, whenever things were imperfect, what’s-the-meaning-of-this-ing as if it got him anywhere; it was the same as John and Michael with their en gardeing everywhere. “I got off of work and. . .”

      “Winifred is in the hospital. I’ve been here an hour and the doctor hasn’t come out. Netty was here an hour before that and I don’t know what could be wrong with her,” Mrs. Darling explained, looking over at the secretary, who kept her head down, going through papers, though it was as plain as day that she wasn’t really working on them. “What is wrong with this place?” she cried out, getting up. She started pacing as her husband looked out the window and John and Michael continued playing.

      “I’m Redhanded Jack,” John cried, standing on a short wooden bench. “And you’re a yellow-livered codfish.”