The old fellow looks baggy, but so he was.

They ought to have kept his chimney-pot, though.

Better than giving him those scraps of hair, when everyone knows he was as bald as a beetle.' 'Sir Job should have been granted Caesar's privilege,' said Mr.
Warricombe, with a pleasant twinkle in his eyes.
'What was that ?' came from the son, with abrupt indifference.
'For shame, Buckland!' 'What do I care for Caesar's privileges?
We can't burden our minds with that antiquated rubbish nowadays.

You would despise it yourself, father, if it hadn't got packed into your head when you were young.' The parent raised his eyebrows in a bantering smile.
'I have lived to hear classical learning called antiquated rubbish.
Well, well!--Ha! there is Professor Gale.' The Professor of Geology, a tall man, who strode over the pavement as if he were among granite hills, caught sight of the party and approached.

His greeting was that of a familiar friend; he addressed young Warricombe and his sister by their Christian names, and inquired after certain younger members of the household.