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A considerable bustle and shuffling of feet was then heard upon the stage, accompanied by whispers of ‘Here’s a pretty go!—what’s to be done?’ &c. The audience applauded again, by way of raising the spirits of the performers; and then Mr. Sempronius desired the prompter, in a very audible voice, to ‘clear the stage, and ring up.’ Ting, ting, ting! went the bell again.
‘How long are you for, Emily?’ screamed a red-faced woman in the crowd. ‘Six weeks and labour,’ replied the elder girl with a flaunting laugh; ‘and that’s better than the stone jug anyhow; the mill’s a deal better than the Sessions, and here’s Bella a-going too for the first time.
“I will,” assented Jack, with a wry face, “and here’s where I have to do some tall but truthful explaining to a man who isn’t in the least likely to believe a word I say. I can guess what Mr. Mayhew is thinking, and is going to keep on thinking!” It was a tailor-made, clean, crisp and new-looking young submarine commander who stepped into the naval cutter alongside.
‘It’s mine now,’ said the fellow; ‘I swore I would seize it the next time I found it on my beat; ay, and beat the master too.’ ‘I am not Slingsby.’ ‘All’s one for that.’ ‘You don’t say you will beat me?’ ‘Afraid was the word.’ ‘I’m sick and feeble.’ ‘Hold up your fists.’ ‘Won’t the horse satisfy you?’ ‘Horse nor bellows either.’ ‘No mercy, then?’ ‘Here’s at you.’ ‘Mind your eyes, Jack.
Here’s the sort o’ game,’ &c.—and the eloquent harangue, with such variations as the speaker’s exuberant fancy suggests, is again repeated to the gaping crowd, reinforced by the accession of several new-comers.
What can be more precious than life? Nothing! To life, and to one queen of queens!” “Let’s drink to life and to your queen, too, if you like.” They drank a glass each. Although Mitya was excited and expansive, yet he was melancholy, too. It was as though some heavy, overwhelming anxiety were weighing upon him. “Misha ... here’s your Misha come!
Mercury, however, loomed larger and larger. They would pass close to the hot planet. O’Brine recalled Rip to the Scorpius and handed him a message. The commander sighed. "Looks like I’ll never get to earth long enough to see my family." Rip sympathized. "Tough, sir. Perhaps the cargo from Titan will be scheduled for Terra." "That’s what I hope," O’Brine agreed. "Well, here’s where we part.
"You’re one of Kitchell’s scavengers, come into town with gold for supplies and a chance to contact the people you want to meet. I’ve known for a long time that Topham, Rennie, and probably a dozen other so-called citizens of that miserable outlaws’ roost are backing Kitchell. Now here’s a chance to prove it!" "Not through me, you don’t," Drew cut in.
"I’m troubled about her, really," said Jack soberly; "we ought to have brought someone to look out for her." "The maid," cried Mitchell, "the dainty, adorable maid! Here’s to Janice and—" his speech was brought to a sudden end by his two guests nearly disappearing under the table. Jack started up. "Ginger! Did you feel that?" he asked.
‘Here’s a pretty affair, bebee,’ screamed the girl. ‘He’ll get up, yet,’ said Mrs. Herne, from beneath the canvas. ‘Get up!—get up yourself; where are you? where is your—Here, there, bebee, here’s the door; there, make haste, they are coming.’ ‘He’ll get up yet,’ said Mrs. Herne, recovering her breath; ‘the dook tells me so.’
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