Drink the Fire-worshippers, if you will." "Here's to Zoroaster, then!" cried Richard.

"I say, Rippy! we'll drink the Fire-worshippers to-night won't we ?" A fearful conspiratorial frown, that would not have disgraced Guido Fawkes, was darted back from the plastic features of Master Ripton.
Richard gave his lungs loud play.
"Why, what did you say about Blaizes, Rippy?
Didn't you say it was fun ?" Another hideous and silencing frown was Ripton's answer.

Adrian matched the innocent youths, and knew that there was talking under the table.
"See," thought he, "this boy has tasted his first scraggy morsel of life today, and already he talks like an old stager, and has, if I mistake not, been acting too.

My respected chief," he apostrophized Sir Austin, "combustibles are only the more dangerous for compression.

This boy will be ravenous for Earth when he is let loose, and very soon make his share of it look as foolish as yonder game-pie!"-- a prophecy Adrian kept to himself.
Uncle Algernon shambled in to see his nephew before the supper was finished, and his more genial presence brought out a little of the plot.
"Look here, uncle!" said Richard.