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Updated: June 11, 2025
"Right is right, Eltham," he said, with the emphasis of one closed hand striking the other; "and it 'ud be a varry queer thing if right should turn out to be wrong. It'll do nowt o' t' sort, not it." "But, Hallam, it seems to me that you hev made up your mind that Craven is right right or wrong and lawyer Swale told me t' evidence was all against him."
"Varry like: but give ower studying; ye've done enough for to-night." "I think we have: at least I'm tired. Mary, are you?" "Mortally: after all, it's tough work fagging away at a language with no master but a lexicon." "It is, especially such a language as this crabbed but glorious Deutsch. I wonder when St. John will come home."
Ben would never do a thing like that!" "Not he! I'd be as like to do it mysen. Thou must go thy ways and see Martha as soon as iver t' dinner is eat. I s'all stand by Martha and Ben to t' varry last. Ben Craven murder any-body! Hee! I crack't out laughing when I heard tell o' such nonsense." In fact, the squire had been touched in a very tender spot.
"It's precisely what I wanted to do from the varry first," he said. "If you'd cared to accept my symposium in the spirit in which it was offered, I cannot see that the 'Life' would have suffered. But now, when you're next in need of my services, ye'll mebbe send for me." He took up his hat. I assured him, and let him take it in what sense he liked, that I would do so; and he left me.
"Colonel," he went on, "I could be wishing this varry creeditable-appearing institution judging from the ootside o't were twice as big as it is, wi' maybe an Annexe or so to the back of that."
The mother was quiet and very undemonstrative, but she attached herself to the dying man, and he regarded her with a pitying tenderness, for which there appeared to be no cause whatever. As she carried away her boy in her arms on Christmas-eve, he looked sadly after her, and, touching Elizabeth's hand, said, "Be varry good to her, wilt ta?"
I don't think it's iver well, even wi' oursel's, to blow a trumpet before any thing we're going to do. After we hev got t' good thing, after we hev done t' great thing, it'll be a varry good time to talk about it.
This is t' way on 't: up at sun-down: dice, brandy, cloised shutters, und can'le-light till next day at noon: then, t'fooil gangs banning und raving to his cham'er, makking dacent fowks dig thur fingers i' thur lugs fur varry shame; un' the knave, why he can caint his brass, un' ate, un' sleep, un' off to his neighbour's to gossip wi' t' wife.
"No, Zare, you varry goot to say so; but I feel I can at all not at all not, qu'est que veut dire, 'exprimer? ach! ach!" he exclaimed, putting his finger in his mouth, and pressing it, meditatively, between his front teeth, "I can at all not speak moin feeling in ze vay I shoult vish." "How long were you in England?" I said. "En fjor une année," he replied.
Is he a pleasant man personally?" "I dare say he is pleasant enough at a dinner-table, and I'll allow that he is varry unpleasant at a piece table in the Town Hall. But webs of stuff and pieces of cloth naturally lock up a man's best self. He wouldn't hev got back to be Akers of Akerside if things wern't that way ordered." This Club news troubled John.
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