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Updated: May 8, 2025
"'Snik, snak, snurre, bassellurre! I'm master of this house! I'm the father of my daughter! Will you hear what I have to say? Mr. de Boots is a person in whom one may see one's face; his upper part is of morocco, and he has spurs into the bargain. Snikke, snakke, snak! He shall have my daughter!" "Now listen to what the Waistcoat says, little Anna," said grandpapa. "Now the Waistcoat's speaking.
But, in fact, a thing had occurred to vex him more than a descent upon the pavement or damage to his waistcoat's whiteness: he abominated the thought of an altercation with a member of the mob; he found that enormous beat comprehensible only when it applauded him; and besides he wished it warmly well; all that was good for it; plentiful dinners, country excursions, stout menagerie bars, music, a dance, and to bed: he was for patting, stroking, petting the mob, for tossing it sops, never for irritating it to show an eye-tooth, much less for causing it to exhibit the grinders: and in endeavouring to get at the grounds of his dissension with that dirty-fisted fellow, the recollection of the word punctilio shot a throb of pain to the spot where his mishap had rendered him susceptible.
"It's a lie, my Lord; the stuff is in my hut, and the waistcoat's half done, but I knew I should never get paid for it, so had to get some other work done to keep my children from starving, for I am a widow. Have mercy on me!" "God curse the liar! I have spoken the truth," broke in the policeman.
Just look at little Miss Glove, how she's pointing her fingers! "'Could I but have my love, Who then so happy as Glove! Ah! If I from him must part, I'm sure 'twill break my heart! 'Bah! The last word was spoken by Mr. Pipe-head; and now it's Mr. Waistcoat's turn: "'O Glove, my own dear, Though it cost thee a tear, Thou must be mine, For Holger Danske has sworn it!
But, in fact, a thing had occurred to vex him more than a descent upon the pavement or damage to his waistcoat's whiteness: he abominated the thought of an altercation with a member of the mob; he found that enormous beat comprehensible only when it applauded him; and besides he wished it warmly well; all that was good for it; plentiful dinners, country excursions, stout menagerie bars, music, a dance, and to bed: he was for patting, stroking, petting the mob, for tossing it sops, never for irritating it to show an eye-tooth, much less for causing it to exhibit the grinders: and in endeavouring to get at the grounds of his dissension with that dirty-fisted fellow, the recollection of the word punctilio shot a throb of pain to the spot where his mishap had rendered him susceptible.
"You're growing thin! Your waistcoat's hanging quite loose. Oh, Heriot, it's terrible to see you that way!" Her heart might be a little withered by all those northern winters, with never another heart to keep it warm, but it could still beat faster at a breath of suspicion cast upon her hospitality. She had not been feeding her only brother properly!
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