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"Begone, sirra," said Sullivan, in a burst of impetuous resentment which he could not restrain, "if I ever know you to open your lips to that daughter of mine if the mane crature can be my daughter I'll make it be the blackest deed but one that ever a Dalton did; and as for you go in at wonst I'll make you hear me by and by." Dalton looked at him once more with a kindling but a smiling eye.
Don't it make your mouth water? Reminds me of a chap I wonst read about in a trac'. It tole 'ow 'e took to booze. One 'ot Sunday, bein' out for a walk, 'e swiped 'arf a pint of ginger beer, the next 'e tried shandy-gaff, the third 'e went the whole hog, an' then 'e never stopped for ten years. My godfather! Ten years' pay an' a ten years' drunk! It's enough to make a sinner of any man."
The grab shook the ticklish craft, so that the man with the revolver could scarcely keep his feet. "Heah," he yelled at the other two. "Keep the dugout stiddy. What air yo'uns doin'? Hold her off, I tell yo'uns." Then to the Lieutenant: "Heah, yo'uns surrender to wonst, or I'll blow yo' heads offen yo'uns."
I remember wonst I was drivin' along a lonely bit o' track, an' it was a grand mornin', an' I felt great, an' I got singin' an' practisin' a recitation that I allers meant to give at a bush darnce some night. An' Tom looked at me very hard an' he says, "What are yer shoutin' an' swearin' an' darncin' an' goin' on at the bullicks like that for, Jimmy? They seem to be workin' all right."
'Reia, said Sinfi, 'you told me wonst as your great-grandmother was a Romany named Fenella Stanley. I have axed the Scollard about her, and what do you think he says? He says that she wur my great-grandmother too, for she married a Lovell as died. 'Good heavens, Sinfi! Well, I'm proud of my kinswoman.
Now, look here, bred'ren, just try wonst to be cibil, a helping yourselbs from dat whale. Don't be tearin' de blubber out your neighbour's mout, I say. Is not one shark dood right as toder to dat whale? And, by Gor, none on you has de right to dat whale; dat whale belong to some one else.
At last she said, 'I mind comin' here wonst with Winnie, and I mind her sayin': "There's no place I should so much like to be buried in as Llanbeblig churchyard. The graves of them as die unmarried do look so beautiful." 'How did she know the graves of those who die unmarried? Sinfi looked over the churchyard and waved her hand.
'An then theer's nowt moor as a can remember, an your aunt ull be wearyin; an it's but reet she should know now, at wonst, abeawt t' money a've saved this four year, an t' letter to Mr. Gurney.
I'm the gardeen, and I don't keer two cents fer life. It's a shadder, and a mush-room, as I writ some varses about it wonst. Let me say 'em over: "Life's a shadder, Never mind it. A cloud kivers up the sun And whar is yer shadder gone? Ye'll hey to be peart to find it! "Life's a ladder What about it? You've clim half-way t' the top, Down comes yer ladder ke-whop! You can't scrabble up without it!
'If I hadn't ha' liked the Gorgios wonst, how should I ha' been so fond o' Winnie Wynne? An' why don't I like Gorgios now? Many's the time you've ax'd me that question, an' now's the time for me to tell you.
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