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"That's what you're talking about!" he said. "That's it," said Polly. Rumbold scratched his ear with the three strawy jampots he held in his hand. "Way the wind blows, I expect," he said. "But what's the fuss?" "No fuss!" said Mr. Polly. "Passing Remark. I don't like it, O' Man, that's all." "Can't help it, if the wind blows my stror," said Mr. Rumbold, still far from clear about it....
"A very good idea," said the stranger. "This stror, sir, if I might make so bold as to remark " "Don't. If the straw makes trouble put it down in the bill." And he mumbled at her words suspiciously like curses. He was so odd, standing there, so aggressive and explosive, bottle in one hand and test-tube in the other, that Mrs. Hall was quite alarmed. But she was a resolute woman.
Deuceace: his jor dropt, he turned chocky white, and then burnin red, and looked as if a stror would knock him down. "My dear Mr. Blewitt," says my master, smilin and offring his hand, "how glad I am to see you. Mr. Dawkins and I were just talking about your pony! Pray sit down." Blewitt did; and now was the question, who should sit the other out; but law bless you! Mr.
"It isn't ordinary civility," said Mr. Polly. "Got to unpack 'ow it suits me. Can't unpack with the stror blowing into one's eyes." "Needn't unpack like a pig rooting for truffles, need you?" "Truffles?" "Needn't unpack like a pig." Mr. Rumbold apprehended something. "Pig!" he said, impressed. "You calling me a pig?" "It's the side I seem to get of you." "'Ere," said Mr.
"No, not all the time. If there ain't any people in he kin lie in er corner on th' stror under his blanket an' sleep, an' sometimes he kin stay lyin' on the stror when there's on'y a few people in, so long ez he growls a bit, an' stretches hisself. There's a lot in stretchin' hisself proper." "Like this," said Nickie. He reached out one leg, clawed with his left hand, and yawned cavernously.
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