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"It is apparently promising us fair weather, sir-r-r." Mrs. Davidson spoke with a certain singular rotund exactness, and hence was held much in awe in all these parts. "Yes, ma'am," said Wid, "it looks like it would rain, but it won't." "Your hay in that case would not flourish so well, Mr. Gar-r-r-dner?" said she. "Without rain, not worth a damn, ma'am, so to speak.
"It's ther foot-rope, Sir-r-r!" he drew out the last word into a sort of gasp. The Second Mate bent quickly, with the lantern. I craned round the after side of the top-mast, and looked. "What is the matter, Mr. Tulipson?" I heard the Old Man singing out.
Something on your mind, huh? I bet I know. You're sending out a ad on your own account 'object, matrimony!" "Sir-r-r!" said Sarah Davidson, flushing red for the first time Wid Gardner had ever seen it occur, "such conver-r-r-sation is not welcome on your part, not in the least! I prefer-r-r that you shall not again mention that act which I have so long regretted. The past is past.
In the fading light of seven o'clock on that fair summer's evening John McTavish for the hundredth time seized the heavy arms of Sharon Whipple and bent them back and up in the right line. Then Sharon did the thing faithfully in his own way, which was still, after an hour's trial, not the way of John McTavish. "Mon, what have I told ye?" expostulated John. He had quit calling Sharon Sir-r-r.
"Sir, please, sir!" "This moment, Wilson. And," as he reached the door, "do me one hundred lines." A pained "OO-oo-oo, sir-r-r," was cut off by the closing door. Mr. Downing proceeded to improve the occasion. "I deplore this growing spirit of flippancy," he said. "I tell you I deplore it! It is not right! If this Fire Brigade is to be of solid use, there must be less of this flippancy.
"Si-lence! The idea of a uniform is, of course, out of the question." "Oo-oo-oo-oo, sir-r-r!" "Be quiet! Entirely out of the question. We cannot plunge into needless expense. Stone, listen to me. I cannot have this noise and disturbance! Another time when a point arises it must be settled by a show of hands. Well, Wilson?" "Please, sir, may we have helmets?"
He quickly runs round to face us again, "Poste-carte, sir-r-r," in a tone as if the conversation had only just begun and he had great hopes of a sale. "No, thank you; go away," I say as sternly and emphatically as I can, for he is not too clean. "Poste-carte, Cismus cards, nice," he continues with unabated zeal as if we had not spoken at all.
Silence!! Silence!!! Helmets are, of course, perfectly preposterous." "Oo-oo-oo-oo, sir-r-r!" "But, sir, the danger!" "Please, sir, the falling timbers!" The Fire Brigade had been in action once and once only in the memory of man, and that time it was a haystack which had burnt itself out just as the rescuers had succeeded in fastening the hose to the hydrant. "Silence!"
Here the medical voices preponderated, and expressions such as these became distinct "Do you accuse me of ignorance, sir-r-r?" "No, sir-r-r. I merely assert that you know nothing at all of the matter." In the midst of this uproar I was walking the quarter-deck with the purser. "What a terrible noise they are making in the cabin," I observed. "What can they be doing?"
Maggie whisked round in a flash, superbly indignant. "What d'yo' mean, sir-r-r?" "Yo' know what I mean, lass," he replied sheepish and shuffling before her queenly anger. She looked him up and down, and down and up again. "I'll niver speak to you agin, Mr. M'Adam," she cried; "not if it was ever so Nay, I'll walk home by myself, thank you. I'll ha' nowt to do wi' you."
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