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But choose wisely, man, and dinna throw them away. I hae my fears that ye're no without a bee in your bonnet, Brockburn." Incensed by this insinuation, the Laird defended his own sagacity at some length, and retorted on his companion with doubts of the power of the Daoiné Shi to grant wishes. "The proof of the pudding's in the eating o't," said the Man of Peace.
"Something in analytical geometry, isn't it?" said I, turning round on my piano-stool. "Analytical pudding's end! It's a plan of a house, my boy, and, what's more, of this very house we're in! That's a find, and no mistake! These are the descriptions and explanations these bits of writing. It's a perfect labyrinth of Crete! Udolpho was nothing to it!"
'It's twelve years last Easter since you lent me that ten-pound note, and it's been on my conscience ever since. But I shall repay it; never you fear but I'll repay it. Did I mention a fire-escape that any man can wear round his waist? Hush! wait a month or two. Let me make a note of your address whilst I think of it. This pudding's hot, but it's a fault on the right side, and time 'll mend it.
Mayhap, brother, replied my uncle Toby, my sister does it to save the expence: A pudding's end, replied my father, the Doctor must be paid the same for inaction as action, if not better, to keep him in temper. Then it can be out of nothing in the whole world, quoth my uncle Toby, in the simplicity of his heart, but Modesty.
'Tis as soft as a flute, said she. 'Tis brass, said the trumpeter. 'Tis a pudding's end, said his wife. I tell thee again, said the trumpeter, 'tis a brazen nose, I'll know the bottom of it, said the trumpeter's wife, for I will touch it with my finger before I sleep.
H.O. stopped crying, but Alice went on with it. Oswald now said "We're a base and outcast family. Until that pudding's out of the house we shan't be able to look any one in the face. We must see that that pudding goes to poor children not grisling, grumpy, whiney-piney, pretending poor children but real poor ones, just as poor as they can stick."
You ought to have married a negro slave, and not any respectable woman. "You're to go about the house looking like thunder all the day, and I'm not to say a word. Where do you think pudding's to come from every day? You show a nice example to your children, you do; complaining, and turning your nose up at a sweet piece of cold mutton, because there's no pudding!
The proof of the pudding's in the eating of it, you know. Talk is cheap and butters no parsnips, they say. I like to do things. But honestly speaking, I believe we're getting through this place pretty smartly."
And we felt less and less able to face the Matron if she was horrid, and one of us at least wished we had chosen the Quaggy for the pudding's long home, and made it up to the robbed poor in some other way afterwards. Just as Alice was saying earnestly in the burning cold ear of Oswald, "Let's put down the basket and make a bolt for it. Oh, Oswald, let's!" a lady came along the passage.
These were public-houses so named, all standing thick together in the neighbourhood of Paradise Row. "I should not want to go anywhere then, except where that young woman and that baby were to be found." "Daniel, you was always fine at poetry." "Try me, if it isn't real prose. The proof of the pudding's in the eating. You come and try."
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