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"No more an' no less; an' everything said will be used against him." "You glumpy auld Dowl!" growled a labouring man. "All right, all right. You just wait, all of 'e! Wheer's the man? How much longer be I to bide his pleasure? March! Damn it all! be the Law a laughing-stock?" The Inspector was growing very hot and excited. "He's gone," said Phoebe, as Mr.
Now, what wi' the cheel that's comin', I caan't carry this any more." Being already lachrymose, after the manner of women at a wedding, Phoebe now shed a tear or two. Will thereupon spoke words of comfort, and blamed her for hiding any matter from him. "More trouble?" he said. "Yet I doan't think it, not now, just as I be right every way. I guess 't is your state makes you queer an' glumpy."
And I'm sorry I thrawed 'e; but you was that glumpy, and of course I didn't know 'e from Adam. I'm Will Blanchard." "Never mind, Will, we'll try again some day. I could wrestle a bit once, and learned a new trick or two from a Yankee in Africa." "You've come back 'mazin' rich they say, Jan Grimbal?" "So, so. Not millionaires, but all right both of us, though I'm the snug man of the two.
Not to confound this person with the sour-faced man who sat glumpy, upon the bench taking snuff, the night before, let us call him Morgridge Klaus. Morgridge Klaus stole slily up stairs to Peter Mit's loft. He went up stairs because there was so much of the Morgridge about him; if there had been more of the Klaus he would undoubtedly have come down the chimney.
The fight begins again so soon as ever 't is awver again and again and again, 'cordin' to the workin' years of a man's life. Then he turns on his back for gude an' all, an' takes his rest, wheer theer's no more seasons, nor frost, nor sunshine, in the world under." "You'm glumpy, dear heart. What's amiss? What's crossed 'e? Tell me, an' I lay I'll find a word to smooth it away.
"Oh, only till Monday morning I goes every Saturday; in fact," added he in an undertone, "I've a season ticket, so I may just as well use it, as stay poking in Tooley Street with the old folks, who really are so uncommon glumpy, that it's quite refreshing to get away from them." "That's a pity," replied Mr. Jorrocks, with one of his benevolent looks. "But 'ow comes it, James, you are not married?
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