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Updated: June 11, 2025
"Yes, but the thing is, Welch's is coming up to his level," says Bloomfield, "instead of his going down to Welch's." "I should say," says young Wyndham, blushing a little to hear his own voice before this imposing assembly, "all Willoughby's coming up to his level!" "The young 'un's right, though he is a Limpet," says Crossfield.
"But, sir if I give you a black eye " "How will say, ten dollars do?" "Ten dollars! For blacking your eye, sir?" "Lumme, Joe!" cried the Old Un, "get back into the ring and black 'em both " "Shut up!" said Joe, scowling down into the Old Un's eager face, "you 'eartless old bloodsucker, you!" "Bloodsucker!" screamed the old man, "w'ot, me?
"Well," said the boy, "I'll just look in after Friday, and see if the little 'un's mother's come back. Goodbye, good-bye, little miss." He could take Dolly's hand into his own this morning, and he looked down curiously at it, a small, rosy, dimpled hand, such as he had never seen before so closely. A lump rose in his throat, and his eyelids smarted with tears again.
Then there's a big bust-up and a row that gets into the papers, and a lot of chaps are expelled, you know." "Always the wrong un's; don't forget that. Have a cup of cocoa, Padre?" said McTurk with the kettle. "No, thanks; I'm smoking. Always the wrong 'uns? Pro-ceed, my Stalky." "And then" Stalky warmed to the work "everybody says, 'Who'd ha' thought it? Shockin' boys!
An' ef ye take to raisin' 'em as this un's ben raised, ye ain't makin' much; an' ef thar ain't nothin' to be made, Tom, what's yer aim?" He put it as if it was a conundrum without an answer. "What's yer aim, Tom?" he repeated, pleasantly, "ef thar ain't nothin' to be made?"
The shaking of Pat Stiver's head was a most emphatic answer. "No," said he, "wotiver you do, have nothin' to do wi' the p'leece. They're a low-minded, pig-headed set, wi' their `move on's, an' their `now then, little un's; an' their grabbin's of your collars, without no regard to w'ether they're clean or not, an' their "
"Some un's gwain' to die," in a tone of vast satisfaction. "Of course, of course if we wait long enough. It's perhaps you. You'll die yourself sometime, you know." "Noh, I wun't. No 'n'll ivver see me die. I'll just turn into sun'th'n a gull maybe," as one floated by on moveless wing, the very poetry of motion; and the fathomless black eyes followed it with pathetic longing.
"Though," pursued Mottle-face, rolling his head heavily, "Joe ain't 'zactly what you might call a dead shot, nor yet a ex-pert, bein' blind in 'is off blinker, d'ye see." "Eh blind, d'ye say blind?" exclaimed the fussy gentleman. "Only in 'is off eye," nodded Mottle-face, reassuringly, "t'other 'un's as good as yours or mine, ven 'e ain't got a cold in it."
The fat 'un's bin 'avin' one or two around the corner, and it's gorn and got into 'is 'ead!" The driver of the cab, who till now had been ostentatiously unaware that there was any sort of disturbance among the lower orders, suddenly became humanly inquisitive. "What's it all about?" he asked, swinging around and addressing George's head. "Exactly what I want to know," said George.
Radcliffe knows he can't monkey with his uncle Frank, an' when he's by, butter wouldn't melt in that young un's mouth. But other times my! You see, Mrs. Sherman is dead easy. She told me oncet, childern ought to be brought up 'scientifically. Lord! She said they'd ought to be let express their souls, whatever she means by that.
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