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Billy started to move away. "I must be gettin' home," he said. "The cows'll be waitin' to be watered." "That's old Harry and his tin whistle," muttered Caleb, "Glory be! but can't he jest make that thing sing?" Billy eyed him appraisingly. He did look like a tough proposition, no doubt about that. His face was round, flat, small-featured. "That face'll stand a lot of pummelin'," Billy told himself, and as he noted the heavy chin, thrust antagonistically forward, "no use bruisin' my knuckles on that," he decided..
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Conrad
"Jest half an hour ago," said Billy. Mr Lawrence walked on. He thought of old Greyquill when he passed the place where he had stopped to talk. He crossed the quaint old bridge duplicated in the river, which streamed with becalmed surface up here and mirrored with the precision of a looking-glass the hues and shapes of every bird that swept the glassy surface for an insect, and gaining a rich lane formed by seven or eight hundred years of growth, for a monastery had stood here and a knight had had his manor where now the land was without relic of stone or brick; but the vegetation left by these people flourished, and though not above half a mile in length that lane formed one of the most glorious, soothing, enfolding, impulse-creating walks in all that country-side which abounded in little paradisaical reaches of a like kind; I say Mr Lawrence crossed the bridge, and emerging from the lane struck the high-road, and presently gained his father's cottage. "Why, sir," answered the Admiral, "I don't see that we should be late if we did not go at all." Jim nodded across to the girl in white. "That's Lou," he informed Billy, "my sister.".
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