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In her widening eyes were new depths, a vague terror, a wild speculation, all struck aghast by its own temerity. "Ye never said nuthin ter hender," she faltered. "I never knowed Tobe, sca'cely. How's enny-body goin' ter know a man ez lived 'way off down hyar in Lonesome Cove?" her mother retorted, acridly, on the defensive. "He never courted me, nohows.
'Our fortuns, Mas'r Davy, he rejoined, 'is soon told. We haven't fared nohows, but fared to thrive. We've allus thrived. We've worked as we ought to 't, and maybe we lived a leetle hard at first or so, but we have allus thrived. What with sheep-farming, and what with stock-farming, and what with one thing and what with t'other, we are as well to do, as well could be.
Don't, Sam; you'll have 'em all twisted about nohows in no time if you go to use 'em in that way." "I wants to see the pictur' on the table," said Sam. "Drat the picture," said Mrs. Dockwrath. "It was hard, wasn't it, John, to see my own mahoganys, as I had rubbed with my own hands till they was ever so bright, and as was bought with my own money too, took away and them things brought here?
'Sol Gills, returned the Captain, after staring at him and the rest for a long time, without speaking, 'I'm gone about and adrift. Pay out a word or two respecting them adwenturs, will you! Can't I bring up, nohows? Nohows? said the Captain, ruminating, and staring all round. 'You know, Ned, said Sol Gills, 'why I left here. Did you open my packet, Ned? 'Why, ay, ay, said the Captain.
'Five hundred pounds is very comfortable; and added to what John has will make things that snug that things never was snugger. But John Crumb isn't after Miss Ruby along of her fortune. 'Nohows, said the lover, shaking his head and still standing upright with his hands by his side. 'Not he; it isn't his ways, and them as knows him'll never say it of him. John has a heart in his buzsom.
"Laws-a-massy," she said, "Tobe ain't so rampa-gious, nohows, ez folks make him out. He air toler'ble peaceable, cornsiderin' ez nobody hev ever hed grit enough ter make a stand agin him, 'thout 'twar the Cunnel thar." She glanced around at the little girl's face framed in the frill of her night-cap, and peaceful and infantile as it lay on the pillow.
Eugenia commented, denied, flashed into rage, then lapsed into silence. Although it did not constrain credulity, there was something that made her afraid when her mother said: "Ye hed better not be talkin' 'bout rifle range so brash, 'Genie, nohows.
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