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Updated: June 21, 2025
What execrable style! A potboy could write better narrative. 'Who are to have copies? 'No one, if I could help it. But I suppose your mother will expect one? 'And Milvain? 'I suppose so, he replied indifferently. 'But not unless he asks for it. Poor old Biffen, of course; though it'll make him despise me. Then one for ourselves. That leaves two to light the fire with.
The boy was got ready, and Hugh walked with him in his arms round the corner, to the Full Moon. He had to pass by the bar, and the barmaid and the potboy looked at him very hard. "There's a young 'ooman has to do with that ere little game," said the potboy. "And it's two to one the young 'ooman has the worst of it," said the barmaid.
"Will you take care what you are about up there, you old baggage!" "Alfred!" retorted Mrs. Pipelet, bawling in a voice sharp enough to split the tympanum of a deaf man. "Alfred! have at 'em, old darling! They wanted to behave improperly to thy 'Stasie! Those rascals would take liberties with me! Pitch into them with your broom! call the oyster-woman and the potboy next door to help you.
His anger against her found vent in coarse railing at her paramour, whose name and voice and features offended his baffled pride: a priested peasant, with a brother a policeman in Dublin and a brother a potboy in Moycullen.
The potboy at the corner, who is a privileged amateur, as possessing official knowledge of life and having to deal with drunken men occasionally, exchanges confidential communications with the policeman and has the appearance of an impregnable youth, unassailable by truncheons and unconfinable in station-houses.
The potboy was insensible, and my eyes fell on Master Davenant, who slowly shook his head. "I'll say not a word," said he, stolidly: "lost twenty pound, one time, by a lawsuit." "Pack of fools!" I cried, driven beyond endurance. "The guilty ones have escap'd these ten minutes. Now stop me who dares!"
When Marion returned home from Pegwell Bay, even the potboy at The Duchess of Edinburgh knew why she had come, and Clara Demijohn professed to be able to tell all that passed at the interview next day. And there was the great "Duca" matter; so that Paradise Row generally conceived itself to be concerned on all questions of nobility, both Foreign and British.
There is not a potboy in the vicinity who is not, to a greater or less extent, a dramatic character. The errand-boys and chandler’s-shop-keepers’ sons, are all stage-struck: they ‘gets up’ plays in back kitchens hired for the purpose, and will stand before a shop-window for hours, contemplating a great staring portrait of Mr.
A telegram was sent to his father, and the reply came back that the boy had not gone home, and that Mr Loman was on his way to Saint Dominic's. At the Maltby railway station no one had seen or heard anything of him. Meanwhile, Mr Rastle had gone down to the Cockchafer to see Cripps. The landlord was not at home, but, said the potboy, was most likely "up along with the old 'un at the lock-'us."
They tried again at eight, and they tried again at nine. No use! There was the door still locked and not a sound to be heard in the room! I have been out this morning and I only got back a quarter of an hour ago. I have hammered at the door myself and all to no purpose. The potboy has gone to fetch a carpenter.
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