Their talk was of fire, and of delay: of expected agrarian astonishment: of a farmer's huge wrath: of violence exercised upon gentlemen, and of vengeance: talk that the boys jerked out by fits, and that came as broken links of a chain impossible to connect.

But they awake curiosity.

The baronet condescended to play the spy upon his son.
Over Lobourne and the valley lay black night and innumerable stars.
"How jolly I feel!" exclaimed Ripton, inspired by claret; and then, after a luxurious pause--"I think that fellow has pocketed his guinea, and cut his lucky." Richard allowed a long minute to pass, during which the baronet waited anxiously for his voice, hardly recognizing it when he heard its altered tones.
"If he has, I'll go; and I'll do it myself." "You would ?" returned Master Ripton.

"Well, I'm hanged!--I say, if you went to school, wouldn't you get into rows! Perhaps he hasn't found the place where the box was stuck in.

I think he funks it.