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"You get the car run into cover, and keep an eye on 'er till that there Pluck-'em-W'ile-yer-Wait comes a sorrowing arter 'er. Tell 'im my address is No. 5, John Street, London, and I'll settle for the bit o' damage. There's no need to bring 'is young lordship in. There's plenty o' wailin' an' gnashin' comin' to 'im, any'ow."
"There's them 'at tells me, my lord," she said with sudden calm, "'at that's hoo ye misca'd Annie Fyfe, puir lass, whan she cam efter ye, fifty year ago, to yer father's hoose, an' gat na a plack to haud her an' her bairn frae the roadside! Ye needna girn like that, my lord! Spare yer auld teeth for the gnashin' they'll HAE to du.
You'm allus snarlin' an' gnashin' your teeth 'gainst God, like a rat bitin' the stick that's killin' it." "And why should God kill me? You've grown so wise of late, perhaps you know." "Why shouldn't He? Why shouldn't He kill you, or any other man, if He wants the room of un for a better?
I can't whale the daylights out of the ghost, and I don't suppose it would be proper for a first selectman to cuff the ears of the woman that said females was followin' me, wailin' and gnashin' their teeth, but I can lick that yaller-fingered, cigarette-suckin' dude, and pay the fine for so doin' and reckon I've got my money's worth." "You need a guardeen," snorted Hiram.
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