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Updated: May 27, 2025
"So you attended Mr. Varney's uncle in his last illness. Did he suffer much?" "He was a poor creature at best," answered Martha; "but he gave me a deal of trouble afore he went. He was a scranny corpse when I strecked him out." Madame Dalibard shrank from the hands at that moment employed upon herself, and said, "It was not, then, the first corpse you have laid out for the grave?" "Not by many."
For the rest, he was slightly above medium height and by no means a good stamp of a man tapering the wrong way, if I might so put it without shocking the double-refined reader. The somewhat wearisome minuteness of this description is owing to his being, at least in my estimation, the most interesting character within the scope of these scranny memoirs. I looked round for the book-shelf.
"And it's to be hoped he'll do nothing of the kind," remarked Biddy, as they walked through the long drawing-room. "For the very thought of him is enough to drive poor Miss Isabel scranny, specially in the evening." "Is is Miss Isabel so afraid of him?" asked Dinah under her breath. Biddy nodded darkly. "She is that, Miss Dinah, and small blame to her." Dinah pressed suddenly close. "Biddy, why?"
"So you attended Mr. Varney's uncle in his last illness. Did he suffer much?" "He was a poor creature at best," answered Martha; "but he gave me a deal of trouble afore he went. He was a scranny corpse when I strecked him out." Madame Dalibard shrank from the hands at that moment employed upon herself, and said, "It was not, then, the first corpse you have laid out for the grave?" "Not by many."
Squills, "Squire Rollick, the hardest head at a bargain I know of, did not Squire Rollick sell that pretty little farm of his, Scranny Holt, for thirty per cent below its value? And what was the cause, sir? The whole county was in amaze! What was the cause, but an incipient simmering attack of the yellow jaundice, which made him take a gloomy view of human life and the agricultural interest?
Squills, "Squire Rollick, the hardest head at a bargain I know of, did not Squire Rollick sell that pretty little farm of his, Scranny Holt, for thirty per cent below its value? And what was the cause, sir? The whole county was in amaze! What was the cause, but an incipient simmering attack of the yellow jaundice, which made him take a gloomy view of human life and the agricultural interest?
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