And then, what do you think he done, miss?
So far from entering into any conversation with me, or hitting at me, like a man--which would have done good to think of--he send out one hand to the bottom of my vest--as they call it now in all the best livery tailors--and afore I could reason on it, there I was a-lying on a star in six colors of marble.

When I come to think on it, it was but a push directed to a part of my system, and not a hit under the belt, the like of which no Briton would think of delivering.
Nevertheless, there was no differ in what came to me, miss, and my spirit was roused, as if I had been hit foul by one of the prizemen.
No time to get up, but I let out one foot at his long legs as a' was slipping through the door, and so nearly did I fetch him over that he let go his muffle to balance himself with the jamb, and same moment a strong rush of wind laid bare the whole of his wicked face to me.

For a bad wicked face it was, as ever I did see; whether by reason of the kick I gave, and a splinter in the shin, or by habit of the mind, a proud and 'aughty and owdacious face, and, as I said to my poor wife, reminded me a little of our Master George; not in his ordinary aspect, to be sure, but as Master George might look if he was going to the devil.

Pray excoose me, miss, for bad words, but no good ones will do justice.
And so off he goes, after one look at me on the ground, not worth considering, with his chin stuck up, as if the air was not good enough to be breathed perpendiklar like." "And of course you followed him," I exclaimed, perceiving that Stixon would allow me now to speak.

"Without any delay you went after him." "Miss Erma, you forget what my dooty was.