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These sisters were so happy together I liked to see them, perhaps all the more because I had neither brothers nor sisters of my own I thought it was an assurance of what they might be in other relations of life. I suppose she will tackle that little spitfire of a dog which I inflicted on them.
Do you mean the French Minister of the Interior, the President of the Board of National Defences, Miss Lorne, that enthusiastic old patriot, that rabid old spitfire whose one dream is the wresting back of Alsace-Lorraine, the driving of the hated Germans into the sea? Do you mean that ripping old firebrand?" "Yes.
Saumarez, hereby appointed to command H.M. galley, the Spitfire. "By command. Our young hero, who had been far less actively employed than he wished, had now obtained almost the height of his ambition, in other words, a situation where he could have an opportunity of displaying his talents and intrepidity.
Fools and blockheads! just because I've got a banking account that would buy half of them up, and never miss it. As if I didn't know, when I'm in that mood, I'm a cattish little spitfire!..." "So you came home to worry us?..." and the pleasure in his face was suddenly illuminating.
Spitfire, Wildrake's emissary, who had often been a-bird-nesting, or on similar mischievous excursions in the forest, had evaded these men's vigilance by climbing over a breach, with which he was well acquainted, in a different part of the wall. Between this party and the advanced guard of Cromwell's detachment, a whispered challenge was exchanged, according to the rules of discipline.
Miss Florence has just come home, hasn't she?" "Yes, Mrs. Richards, and here, Miss Floy, before you've been in the house a quarter of an hour, you go a-smearing your wet face against the expensive mourning that Mrs. Richards is a-wearing for your ma!" With this remonstrance, young Spitfire, whose real name was Susan Nipper, detached the child from her new friend by a wrench as if she were a tooth.
And she certainly was worthy of better treatment. But that is all over. Mr. Hammond has her tied up with a hard and fast contract. Let her alone, Mr. Fenbrook." "Aw, don't you fret," growled the man. "I ain't come out here to trouble Wonota none. The little spitfire! She'd shoot me just as like's not if she took the notion. Them redskins ain't to be trusted none of 'em. I know 'em only too well."
"By the Lord Harry," he said, as she stood panting, with her hands fixed in the last little dramatic gesture, "what a little spitfire and brick you are!" All at once he caught her away from the open window and drew her to him.
It is, however, when I come to the combination of horse and rider that I can with entire safety lapse into the flow of the old chroniclers. For whatever Harry had forgotten in his many experiences since he last threw his leg over Spitfire, horsemanship was not one of them. He still rode like a Cherokee and still sat his mount like a prince. He had had an anxious and busy morning.
One night, his lady being engaged to dinner at Nightingale House, I saw Mr. Jeames resting himself on a bench at the "Pocklington Arms:" where, as he had no liquor before him, he had probably exhausted his credit. Little Spitfire, Mr. Clarence Bulbul's boy, the wickedest little varlet that ever hung on to a cab, was "chaffing" Mr.
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