I shouldn't wonder if she's Madam Cass some day, arter all--and nobody more rightfuller, for they'd make a fine match.
You can find nothing against Master Godfrey's shapes, Macey, _I_'ll bet a penny." Mr.Macey screwed up his mouth, leaned his head further on one side, and twirled his thumbs with a presto movement as his eyes followed Godfrey up the dance.

At last he summed up his opinion.
"Pretty well down'ard, but a bit too round i' the shoulder-blades.

And as for them coats as he gets from the Flitton tailor, they're a poor cut to pay double money for." "Ah, Mr.Macey, you and me are two folks," said Ben, slightly indignant at this carping.

"When I've got a pot o' good ale, I like to swaller it, and do my inside good, i'stead o' smelling and staring at it to see if I can't find faut wi' the brewing.

I should like you to pick me out a finer-limbed young fellow nor Master Godfrey--one as 'ud knock you down easier, or 's more pleasanter-looksed when he's piert and merry." "Tchuh!" said Mr.Macey, provoked to increased severity, "he isn't come to his right colour yet: he's partly like a slack-baked pie.