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Updated: June 19, 2025
I knew once a gentleman and very worthy practitioner in Vanity Fair, who used to do little wrongs to his neighbours on purpose, and in order to apologise for them in an open and manly way afterwards and what ensued? My friend Crocky Doyle was liked everywhere, and deemed to be rather impetuous but the honestest fellow. Becky's humility passed for sincerity with George Osborne.
But the word "lame" had roused all Mollie's sympathy. "How lame are you?" she asked. "Is it a wound? I am lame too only a sprained ankle, but I should hate to walk from here to Chauncery." "Of course you couldn't," the motorist said kindly. "I am not so bad as that. My wound healed long ago, but it has left rather a crocky foot behind.
The Lamb came with his pretty hair all tumbled and his face all dusty from the destruction of Pompeii, and instantly became a baby snake, hissing and wriggling and creeping in Anthea's arms, as she said 'I love my little baby snake, He hisses when he is awake, He creeps with such a wriggly creep, He wriggles even in his sleep. 'Crocky, said the Lamb, and showed all his little teeth.
And then they all danced and capered again; all but Polly, who was down before the precious stove examining and exploring into ovens and everything that belonged to it. "Oh, ma," she announced, coming up to Mrs. Pepper, who had been obliged to fly to her sewing again, and exhibiting a very crocky face and a pair of extremely smutty hands, "it's most all ovens, and it's just splendid!"
Charcoal portraits came next, and the entire family hung in a row, looking as wild and crocky as if just evoked from a coalbin.
Don't you remember the broken point to the tooth that stuck out through his upper jaw, on the right side, too? Why, Crocky, old boy, how are you? I'm mighty glad to see you again." "Don't you want to set them free to-morrow, Dick?" asked Mr. Barstow. "I don't, but I've got to." "Would you rather send them North to be educated?" "I surely would. I wish I could." "I think it can be managed.
Half-way up the second flight, they all stopped as suddenly as if they had seen a ghost; for looking over the banisters was Tom's face, crocky but triumphant, and in either hand a junk of candy, which he waved above them as he vanished, with the tantalizing remark, "Don't you wish you had some?"
He was just back from a long drive out into the country with a fellow doctor, to pass judgment upon a critical case; he must visit a man in the hospital before his evening office hour; he was tired, hungry, and in a hurry, and there was no immediate prospect of dinner. But the three weary, heated, crocky faces before him moved him to pity, and he threw open the outer door, saying briskly,
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