Come along, Mary, and see your old playfellow.
She has got a little fruit for the old gentleman.

Mary, where are you I always colloguing with Jane." Mary comes in: a little dumpty body, with a yellow face, and a red nose, the smile of an angel, and a heart full of many little secrets of other people's--and of one great one of her own, which is no business of any man's--and with fifty thousand pounds as her portion, for she is an only child.

But no man will touch that fifty thousand; for "no one would marry me for myself," says Mary; "and no one shall marry me for my money." So she greets Tom shyly and humbly, without looking in his face, yet very cordially; and then slips away to deposit on the table a noble pine-apple.
"A little bit of fruit from her greenhouse," says the old man in a disparaging tone: "and, oh Jane, bring me a saucer.

Here's a sprat I just capered out of Hemmelford mill-pit; perhaps the Doctor would like it fried for supper, if it's big enough not to fall through the gridiron." Jane, who knows Mark Armsworth's humour, brings in the largest dish in the house, and Mark pulls out of his basket a great three-pound trout.
"Aha! my young rover; Old Mark's right hand hasn't forgot its cunning, eh?
And this is the month for them; fish all quiet now.

When fools go a-shooting, wise men go a-fishing! Eh?
Come here, and look me over.