You run full tilt at the board, but the board is on a pivot, with a bag of sand on an arm that balances it.

The board gives way as soon as you touch it; and before you have got by, the bag of sand comes round whack on the back of your neck.

"Ananias," for instance, pitches into your lecture, we will say, in some paper taken by the people in your kitchen.

Your servants get saucy and negligent.

If their newspaper calls you names, they need not be so particular about shutting doors softly or boiling potatoes.