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"What you talkin' 'bout, Bill? What thing? Who's it been clawin'? Hurry up, tell me." "What sort of a fellow was this who stopped Miss Acton?" enquired the Admiral. "Was he a pauper? Broken clothes, whining voice, the suppliant's demeanour—that sort of thing?" "Billy," she spoke again, "are you sick?".
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Conrad
"Yes, Ma'am; I mean jest that. You see, Ma, that ol' horse don't belong to Teacher Johnston any more. We bought him." "Then I'll be tellin' ye where I do be gettin' the whisky, Billy; where else but in the ha'nted house." "Not what you'd notice, Ma. He ain't any like Mr. Stanhope. His face—I ain't likin' it a bit. Besides, Ma, he flogs his poor horse somethin' awful." Billy sat looking away. His grey eyes had grown somber. "See here," he said suddenly, "do you know that old man Scroggie left a will?".
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