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Pewee was hammering Jack without pity, when suddenly he was caught by the collar and lifted sharply to his feet. "Wot you doin' down dare in de dirt wunst a'ready? Hey?" said Mr. Rose, as he shook his son with the full force of his right arm, and cuffed him with his left hand. "Didn't I dells you I'd gill you some day if you didn't gwit vitin' mit oder poys, a'ready?"
Patricia implored. "Nell, what does your mother do when your brothers cry like this?" "They don't cry like this," Nell answered, trying desperately to quiet Lydia. "Mebbe next time, Miss P'tricia," Sarah's tone was strictly of the "I-told-you-so" order, "yo' won't go 'vitin' a whole tribe o' young uns, widout resultin' any one."
Pewee's just killing a boy in the street." "Vitin' ag'in," said Mr. Rose, who was a Pennsylvanian from the limestone country, and spoke English with difficulty. "He ees a leetle ruffen, dat poy. I'll see apout him right avay a'ready, may be." And without waiting to put off his leathern apron, he walked briskly in the direction indicated by Joanna.
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