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We'll be obliged av ye could explain it a thrifle, for sorra one but's bad off, an' Father O'Baithershin says 'Howld yer whist, says he 'till ye see what'll happen, says he. Will we get the bit o' ground widout rint, yer honner's glory?" Mr.
"And, Thomas," said Brierley's wife, "you know how it is with Joe Taylor's lads and wenches. There's a big family on 'em. They're not short of brass in that house, or shouldn't be. There's drink enough and to spare goes down their throats, and yet there's not one of the whole lot but's as lean as an empty bobbin, and as white as a heap of cotton.
"No, over seas, Sir; a fine young gentleman, but hasty; and and but Lord bless me! sure no, it can't be yes, now you turn it is it is my young master!" So saying, the old Corporal, roused into affection, hobbled up to the wanderer, and seized and kissed his hand. "Ah, Sir, we shall be glad, indeed, to see you back after such doings. But's all forgotten now, and gone by augh!
"Whatever happens," said Bartle, "we oughtn't to have any words or bickerin's among ourselves at any rate. I undherstand that two among yez sthruck one another. Sure yez know that there's not a blow ye giv to a brother but's a perjury an' there's no use in that, barin an' to help forid the thruth. I'll say no more about it now; but I hope there'll never be another blow given among yez.
Just you gimme the hundred dollars and I don't want no di'monds." "All right. But I bet you I ain't going to throw off on di'monds. Some of 'em's worth twenty dollars apiece there ain't any, hardly, but's worth six bits or a dollar." "No! Is that so?" "Cert'nly anybody'll tell you so. Hain't you ever seen one, Huck?" "Not as I remember." "Oh, kings have slathers of them."
Lo her foundations laid with sapphires are; Her goodly windows made of agates fair, Her gates are carbuncles, or pearls; nor one Of all her borders but's a precious stone; None common, nor o' th' baser sort are here, Nor rough, but squar'd and polish'd everywhere; Her beams are cedars, fir her rafters be, Her terraces are of the algum-tree; The thorn or crab-tree here are not of us; Who thinks them here utensils, puts abuse Upon the place, yea, on the builder too; Would they be thus controll'd in what they do?
Positive engagement. But's it's all right," he concluded resolutely. "I can motor to Grandby Tavern, too, can't I? Tell Maud not to mind tennis clothes, but to hurry. Want to go along?" "No, I don't," she said emphatically. "And Maud isn't going, either." "She isn't, eh?" "No, she isn't. Can't you leave this affair to me?"
"Let the boy get his supper first," said Honor; "Bartle, you must be starved wid hunger." "Faith, I'm middlin' well, I thank you, that same way," replied Bartle; "divil a one o' me but's as ripe for my supper as a July cherry; an' wid the blessin' o' Heaven upon my endayvors I'll soon show you what good execution is."
Adam 'ud ha' done for thee I know he would an' he might come t' like thee well enough, if thee'dst stop. But he's as stubborn as th' iron bar there's no bending him no way but's own. But he'd be a fine husband for anybody, be they who they will, so looked-on an' so cliver as he is. And he'd be rare an' lovin': it does me good on'y a look o' the lad's eye when he means kind tow'rt me."
The farmer praised Robert as a rare hand, but one affected with bees in his nightcap, who had ideas of his own about farming, and was obstinate with them; "pays you due respect, but's got a notion as how his way of thinking's better 'n his seniors. It's the style now with all young folks. Makes a butt of old Mas' Gammon; laughs at the old man. It ain't respectful t' age, I say.
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