W'y, she was down on me like a 'undredweight of bricks this morning.

You see, last night she 'ad me in to supper, and, I beg your pardon, sir, but I took the freedom of playing her a chune or two.

She didn't mind a bit; so this morning I began to play to myself, and she flounced in, and flew up, and carried on no end about Sunday!' 'You see, Rowley,' said I, 'they're all mad up here, and you have to humour them.

See and don't quarrel with Mrs.McRankine; and, above all, don't argue with her, or you'll get the worst of it.

Whatever she says, touch your forelock and say, "If you please!" or "I beg pardon, ma'am." And let me tell you one thing: I am sorry, but you have to go to church with her again this afternoon.