Hope they killed, sir--hope they killed!' with a still slighter touch of the cap.
'Killed, aye!--killed in the open just below Crabstone Green, in _your_ country,' adding, 'It was one of your foxes, I believe.' 'Glad of it, sir--glad of it, sir,' replies Frosty.

'They wanted blood sadly--they wanted blood sadly.

Quite welcome to one of our foxes, sir--_quite_ welcome.

That's a brace and a 'alf they've killed.' 'Brace and a ha-r-r-f!' drawls Slapp, in well-feigned disgust; 'brace and a ha-r-r-f!--why, it makes them ten brace, and six run to ground.' 'Oh, don't tell _me_,' retorts Frosty, with a shake of disgust; 'don't tell me.

I knows better--I knows better.