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"Why then, Hugh O'Donnell, ar'n't you a dirty, black bodagh, to go to open upon the poor boy for no reason in life? What did he do that you should abuse him, you nager you? and it's well known that you're a nager, and that your heart's in the shillin'. Oh! it's long before you'd go to fair or market and bring home the best gown, or shawl, or mantle in it to the only sister you have, as he does.
"Ar'n't you very cold there, sir?" said Bradley, after a long pause, and pushing himself farther into the verge of the dying embers, "may I not ring for some more coals?" "Hell and the : I beg your pardon, my good Bradley, but you vex me beyond patience; how can you think of such trifles when our very lives are in so imminent a danger?"
"O, thin, ar'n't you afeard that whin you come to the top and that you're obleedged to go down, that you'd go slidderhin away intirely, and never be able to stop, maybe. It's bad enough, so it is, going down hill by land, but it must be the dickens all out by wather." "But there is no hill, Paddy; don't you know that water is always level?"
"I suppose that you do come for to go to know me now, any how," said Smallbones. "Hath the sea given up its dead?" replied Vanslyperken, in a hollow voice. "No, it ar'n't, 'cause why? I never was a-drowned," replied Smallbones; "no thanks to you, though; but if so be as I supposes, you be a-going to be hung as I'm a good Christian, I'll forgive you that is, if you be hung, you know."
"He may keel-haul, or hang me, for all I care. The dog is dead. Never fear, corporal, I won't peach upon you. I'm game, and I'll die so if so be I must." Vanslyperken sent for Smallbones. Smallbones, who was worked up to the highest state of excitement, came in boldly. "So, you villain, you've killed my dog, and buried it." "No, I ar'n't," replied Smallbones. "I knows nothing about your dog, sir."
"'Tarnal death to me," said Ralph Stackpole, "them's got the grit that'll go down old Salt on horseback! But it's all for the good of anngelliferous madam: and so, if thar's any hard rubbing, or drowning, or anything-of that synommous natur', to happen, it ar'n't a thing to be holped no how.
"It ar'n't to be done, gaffer," said Joseph, resolutely stopping short, and setting up the ladder in the roadway. The old nobleman turned to face him with pretended anger. "You are impertinent, Joseph." "It caw't be done, my lord," his assistant mumbled, thrusting his head through a space in the ladder. "Times are hard, Joseph," returned his lordship.
Ar'n't you ashamed of yourself?" All this, and infinitely more, was levelled against the miserable professor, who stood shivering with cold and fright; and turning his eyes first upon one, and then on another, as the exclamations circulated round the room, "I do assure you," at length he began. "No, no," cried one, "it is of no use explaining now!"
"As for you, Uggleston," cried the doctor, "I sha'n't offer you a present, for you'll want me some day to mend your head, or cut off a leg or a wing. Only, recollect I'm in your debt." "As for me, Mr Uggleston," said my father. "There there, that will do," cried old Jonas surlily. "We ar'n't such very bad friends, are we?"
He had heard of the wild, disreputable "Cockle Folk" who roamed about the sandhills; who were worse than tramps in the opinion of respectable people, and who had, many of them, no fixed abode of any kind. "Well," he remarked, "it's a pity. I could ha' wished ye'd ha' belonged to different folks. I don't hold with these cocklers. They're a rough lot, ar'n't they?" The girl laughed.
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