The first volume slipped down there this morning, and I haven't had time to pick it up since.

(Sandpaper! Do you think I'm made of sandpaper!) Have you found the first volume?
Ah, that's it.

All over flour! there's a hole in the sack I suppose.

Twelve sheets of sandpaper used in a week! What for?
I defy any of you to tell me what for.

Waste! waste! shameful sinful waste!" At this point in Mrs.Finch's lamentations, I made my escape with the book, and left the subject of Oscar Dubourg to be introduced at a fitter opportunity.