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weird boxes that hummed; no talents at all

laboratory that adjoined his office, lock the door . . . and putter! Jules V. Henderson would putter in his laboratory! He would putter, furthermore, with all manner of strange apparatus and weird boxes that hummed — that none, save Jules V. Henderson, could understand. That was what was wrong with...

worst of all, his wife puttered too; not with boxes that hummed and such, but with other people’s business. She puttered especially in Jules Henderson’s puttering, and he sincerely, vehemently detested, anyone who interfered. In fact, that’s what made him moody . . . .

24. Mrs. H.: Jules V. Henderson! Why in the world don’t
34. [] contract . . . but do you try to get it back? You putter! This is the last straw.
50. Mrs. H: Been where? Been where? What’s this nonsense?
51. Hen: . . . I’ve found peace . . . I can putter all I want

the above assembled from various searches in
Folio 9:3 (Department of English, Indiana University; December 1943) for putter and puttering
The above on or around page 8, and likely from Jean Shirley, “Something May Happen.”

...in the fireplace. And there are my slippers . . . . Of course dinner isn’t ready. She has been handicapped from birth in that respect — has no talents at all for cooking. But her willingness to help overcomes all that as far as I’m concerned. So, together we go to the kitchen and my puttering starts. I must admit I don’t scramble a bad egg. She watches every move I make, obviously hoping to learn

4 July 2023