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Captain Acton with a violent effort had by this time recollected himself. "Oh, gollies! Right into their decoys," he groaned. "Now they'll give it to 'em, jest as they're settlin'." "I couldn't tell, your honour. The piece of chicken is on the bed, and I see the piece of bacon under it. I dunno what she was doin' with her nose a-nuzzling of the tray as though she was a-smelling of the salt.".
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Conrad
Wilson whistled softly. "You don't say!" he managed to articulate. "Why, Mary, it's a pipe!" "I can't conceive of anything," said Captain Weaver, smiling with something of pride at the Admiral and Captain Acton, "born—I don't care in what shipwright's yard, whether British or French or Roosian or Spaniard—as is going to have more than a look at the Aurora when it's her pleasure to show nothing but her heels." "Naw, can't you see if we told our dads that, they'd want 'a know what you an' me was doin' out in Scroggie's bush in the rain, at that hour of the night? No siree, we won't say a word 'bout it." "Oh, my dear, dear Lucy," he cried, "little can you conceive how the man who carried[Pg 362] you off has made your aunt and me, and his father, suffer!".
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