United States or Trinidad and Tobago ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
It is needless perhaps to say that the man was Bozzle. "I dare say, Mr. Houthouse, you don't know me," said Bozzle. Mr. Outhouse, disdaining all complimentary language, said that he certainly did not. "My name, Mr. Houthouse, is Samuel Bozzle, and I live at No. 55, Stony Walk, Union Street, Borough. I was in the Force once, but I work on my own 'ook now." "What do you want with me, Mr. Bozzle?"
Thus, when he displayed his document to Mr. Outhouse, he had taught himself at least to desire that that document should be obeyed. Mr. Outhouse read the paper and turned up his nose at it. "You had better go away," said he, as he thrust it back into Bozzle's hand. "Of course I shall go away when I have the child." "Psha!" said Mr. Outhouse. "What does that mean, Mr. Houthouse?
I presume you'll not dispute the paternal parent's legal authority?" "Go away, sir," said Mr. Outhouse. "Go away!" "Yes; out of this house. It's my belief that you are a knave." "A knave, Mr. Houthouse?" "Yes; a knave. No one who was not a knave would lend a hand towards separating a little child from its mother.
I think you are a knave, but I don't think you are fool enough to suppose that the child will be given up to you." "It's my belief that knave is hactionable," said Bozzle, whose respect, however, for the clergyman was rising fast. "Would you mind ringing the bell, Mr. Houthouse, and calling me a knave again before the young woman?" "Go away," said Mr. Outhouse.
Word Of The Day