They are a rough lot those moor men, and don't stick at trifles." "I will say nothing about it," Tompkins replied hastily; "you may rely on that.

What a lucky fellow you are to be going home! Nothing will be said to you for being an hour late.

I shall get a licking to a certainty.

How I do hate that Hathorn, to be sure!" They now came to the point where the road separated and each hurried on at his best speed.
"You are late tonight, Ned," the boy's father said when he entered.

"I don't like your being out after dark.