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Updated: June 26, 2025
But he's got tongue enough to speak disrespectful about's neebors, for he said as I was a blind Pharisee a-usin' the Bible i' that way to find nick-names for folks as are his elders an' betters! and what's worse, he's been heard to say very unbecomin' words about Your Reverence; for I could bring them as 'ud swear as he called you a 'dumb dog, an' a 'idle shepherd. You'll forgi'e me for sayin' such things over again."
"For the lofe of heavens," said Dousterswivel, "say nothing at all neither about somebodies or nobodies!" After striking a few strokes, he tired, or affected to tire, and said to his companion, "I'm auld and failed now, and canna keep at it time about's fair play, neighbour; ye maun get in and tak the shule a bit, and shule out the loose earth, and then I'll tak turn about wi' you."
"Donna talk to me about's marr'in'," said Lisbeth, crying afresh. "He's set's heart on that Hetty Sorrel, as 'ull niver save a penny, an' 'ull toss up her head at's old mother.
There was a hint of laughter in her glance, and yet behind it a certain serious scrutiny. "I'm wondering a lot about you, do you know it?" she drawled softly. "Turn about's fair play, then, honey," he answered. "You keep me guessing all the time. But what is it now?"
It must be some sort of charm, for I heard her mumbling to herself about pork and dumplings just as she was stirring up the fire." "A charm, eh? Why is it that other people have all the luck? It looks as if we were doomed forever to be poor." "Why not borrow Mrs. Wang's charm for a few days until we can pick up a little flesh to keep our bones from clattering? Turn about's fair play.
He told us there was no fear of redskins here, yet, when the scream of a painter or the hoot of an owl stirred me from my exhausted slumber, I caught sight of him with his back to a tree, staring into the forest, his rifle at his side. The day was dawning. "Turn about's fair," I expostulated. "Ye'll need yere sleep, Davy," said he, "or ye'll never grow any bigger."
I don't agree with you at all that it is necessary to destroy the breast to draw a bow. I have quite a contrary belief which I follow, and I think that it is good for many others, probably for the majority. I have just developed my idea on that subject in a novel which has been sent to the Revue and will appear after About's.
Edmond About's 'Mariages de Paris' and 'Tolla' are charming French things; and, as he says, they might be read aloud by a man between his mother and his sister, without a shade of offence." "Thank you, sir," said Mrs. Lillie. "You had better go to Rose Ferguson, and get her to give you a list of the kinds of books she prefers."
"An' there ain't no call for you to say any more about's fur's I know, Marindy," and he jerked open the newspaper, put his feet on the round of another chair, got his spectacles out of their case and on his nose, and prepared to be comfortable. He never knew when his paper slid to the floor, and his bald head was bobbing over his empty hands. Mrs.
Franklin flushed, his first impulse being of distinct displeasure; yet he recognised the perfect good faith of the other's remarks and turned away without reply. "An' what I was goin' to say," continued Sam, following after him, "is like this. Now, you ain't afraid of Nory, an' I ain't afraid of Miss Beecham. Turn about's fair play.
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