She thinks she should take Jean at his word." "Phil, you are all right, seemin'ly. You can lick any av us. You've got the build av a giant, an' you've beautiful hair an' teeth. An' you are son an' heir to John Bar'net, which is an asset some av us would love to possess, bein' orphans, an' the lovely ladies av Springvale is all bewitched by you; but you are a blind, blitherin' ijit now an' again."

Dont b'lieve him, bar'net: not that I suppose you will; for, if I've formed a correck opinion of you from your wuck, you think your small beear as good as most men's. Every man does and wy not? We brew, and we love our own tap amen; but the pint betwigst us is this steupid, absudd way of crying out because the public don't like it too. Wy should they, my dear bar'net?

If he mean it! But ah! what do you think he begs of me, my dear?. not to make it known in the house just yet! I can't, I can't say that look well." Lucy attributed it to his sense of shame at his conduct, and Mrs. Berry did her best to look on it in that light. "Did the bar'net kiss ye when you wished him goodnight?" she asked. Lucy said he had not. "Then bide awake as long as ye can," was Mrs.

Pipple, when their mothers reckonise them, don't howl about the suckumambient air, and paws to think of the happy leaves a-rustling leastways, one mistrusts them if they do...Look at the neat grammaticle twist of Lady Arundel's spitch too, who in the cors of three lines has made her son a prince, a lion with a sword and coronal, and a star. Wy gauble, and sheak up metafers in this way, bar'net?

Phil Bar'net, he's kapin' den in that cave, an' the devil must have showed him how to git up there." A shout up-stream told of other boys coming down to our swimming place. You have seen a humming bird dart out of sight. So the Indian on the rock far above us vanished at that sound. "That's Bill Mead comin'; I know his whoop.

I can compare my livery buttons to the stars, or the clouds of my backr pipe to the dark vollums that ishew from Mount Hetna; or I can say that angles are looking down from them, and the tobacco-silf, like a happy soil released, is circling round and upwards, and shaking sweetness down. All this is as easy as to drink; but it's not potry, bar'net, nor natral.

If he mean it! But ah! what do you think he begs of me, my dear? not to make it known in the house just yet! I can't, I can't say that look well." Lucy attributed it to his sense of shame at his conduct, and Mrs. Berry did her best to look on it in that light. "Did the bar'net kiss ye when you wished him goodnight?" she asked. Lucy said he had not. "Then bide awake as long as ye can," was Mrs.

The other fellow, him at me left, is what you'd be slow to suspect by the look of him, I'll go bail; and that's a bar'net, Sir Richard Maistre, with a place in Hampshire, and ten thousand a year if he's a penny. The young lady beside yourself rejoices in the euphonious name of Hicks, and trains her Popper and Mommer behind her like slaves in a Roman triumph.

"The ward-room steward told me he was come of the best blood in England," was my friend's reply: "Eton and 'Arrow bred; and might have been a bar'net!" "No, but to look at?" I corrected him. "The same as you or me," was the uncompromising answer: "not much to look at. I didn't know he was a gen'lem'n; but then, I never see him cleaned up." "How was that?" I cried.

"The ward-room steward told me he was come of the best blood in England," was my friend's reply: "Eton and 'Arrow bred; and might have been a bar'net!" "No, but to look at?" I corrected him. "The same as you or me," was the uncompromising answer: "not much to look at. I didn't know he was a gen'lem'n; but then, I never see him cleaned up." "How was that?" I cried.