Date: 1892
And so it was.  But Mr St Abbe, instead of reviling poor Trotman as he would have liked to do, remembering the poor home he came from, and recognising in him not merely a weed-pulling machine but a fellow-human, marched off as fast as he could and put as much space as his premises provided be tween him and the innocent devastator of his favourite vegetable.  So he went in and told Clara, and then sat down and lighted a cigar, and tried, more or less successfully, to keep down a commingled upheaval of indignation, self-condemnation, regret, vindictiveness, and, above all, miserable fear that some people would be disposed to laugh at the mishap : as indeed many did when they heard of it.