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"Now," she panted, having reached the limit of her strength, "you go upstairs with Willium and change clothes. Not another word, er I'll start in on you all over ag'in. Off you go, both o'you. And Willium," she called after them, "when you get into your own suit, don't you ferget to come here fer your scrubbin'." Then it was that Croaker, gripping the glasses in one black claw, burst into a cry of joyful recognition. "That's Anson's coat all right," she affirmed. "Now twist about so's I kin see them hip pockets in the pants.".
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Conrad
"Bah! mommie's baby boy won't fight?" taunted the eager one. "But by gollies! I'm goin' to make you," he added, scowling fiercely. Billy, who had squared away at his breakfast, spoke with his mouth full. "We're goin' to have 'em fer dinner," he informed his hostess. Lucy heard a church bell strike: she started from a fit of abstraction, and, turning to move on, confronted an old man who was crossing the bridge. The face of this old man was pale and wrinkled; his hair was long and quite white. His nose streamed down his face in a thin, curling outline; his mouth when his lips were compressed might be expressed by a simple stroke of a pencil.[Pg 30] His eyes were deep-seated and extraordinarily luminous and swift in their motions, and his eyebrows, which were as white as his hair, were so thick and overhanging that they might have passed for a couple of white mice sleeping on his brow. His apparel had that dim and faded look which in fiction is associated with miserliness. His high and dingy white cravat and the tall build of his coat at the back of his head, so sloped his shoulders that they looked to make a line with his arms. He wore a faded red waistcoat which sank very low, and under it dangled a bunch of seals. His knee-breeches left painfully visible the pipe-stem shanks clothed in grey hose and terminating in large shoes, burdened with steel buckles. The girl felt her companion's hand tighten spasmodically on hers. She glanced up to find him staring, wide-eyed at the bird..
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