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He took Lucilla's hand, and put it sentimentally inside the collar of his waistcoat, over the region of the heart; laying his other hand upon it as if he was keeping it warm. In this tender attitude, he blew a prodigious sigh; recovered himself, with a shake of his shock-head; winked at me through his spectacles, and waddled out after Mr. Sebright, who was already at the bottom of the stairs.
You go now and ask Grace Wickens, my gal, to give you a cup of hot cocoa." Young Socknersh went, stooping his shock-head still lower as he passed under the worn oak lintel of the kitchen door. Joanna interviewed the shepherd from Honeychild, a man from Slinches, another from Anvil Green inland, and one from Chilleye, on Pevensey marsh beyond Marlingate.
Therefore no charge of thine, shock-head. Two or three minutes passed. Then 'We be knee-haltered for the night. There is no going out from the camp. 'Not for money? 'H'm! Ah! English money? Another depressing interval of silence. 'How much?
A shock-head of red hair, which the hat and periwig of the Lowland costume had in a great measure concealed, was seen beneath the Highland bonnet, and verified the epithet of Roy, or Red, by which he was much better known in the Low Country than by any other, and is still, I suppose, best remembered.
But his fingers revolting from so unusual an act of complaisance, began to indemnify themselves by scratching his grizzly shock-head, as he muttered, in a tone resembling the softened growling of a mastiff when he has ceased to bay the intruder who shows no fear of him, "There are different rates.
There was jostling, there was asperity from those who could sleep and from those who would; there was more when two shock-head drovers like First and Second Murderers in a tragedy insisted on taking off their boots. It was not that there was little room for boots; indeed I think they nursed them on their thin knees.
He had a shock-head of bright red hair such as might have thatched the poll of the "Dougal cratur;" his cheek-bones were high, his nose of the Captain of Knockdunder pattern, and his mouth of true Celtic amplitude. One felt instinctively as if Macfarlane were bound to know Gaelic, and that the times were out of joint when he evinced greater fondness for eau sucree than for Talisker.
Grazia insolita del sommo Fattore!" died away to a murmurous underflow of sound, perhaps a tongue or two was thrust into a cheek or two, perhaps a bare shoulder shrugged or one shock-head wagged to another. The air was sharp, beds still warm whose business was it? The street was left to the rats and snuffing dogs again.
His big shock-head thatched with yellow straw, a dilapidated sun-and-rain shed.
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