That there es Peter Dearlove--him wi' the red neckercher; likewise Paul Dearlove--him wi' the yaller.
An', beggin' yer pardon for passin' over the ladies, this es Tamsin Dearlove (christ'n'd Thomasina), dearly beloved sister o' the same," concluded Caleb, with a sudden recollection of having read something like this on a tombstone.
Tamsin curtseyed, and the two horny palms were again presented.
Not knowing which to take first, Mr.Fogo held his umbrella between his knees and gave them a hand a-piece.
"I am afraid, Mr.--" He hesitated with a suspicion that he ought to say "Messrs." "Dearlove," suggested Caleb; "an' reckoned a purty name, too." "I am afraid, Mr.Dearlove," repeated Mr.Fogo, compromising matters by staring hard between the Twins, "that we have interrupted you." "Not at all, sir," said Peter.

"Sit down, sir, ef you'm not proud.
Tamsin, bring a cup for the gentleman.

A piece o' pasty, sir?
Tamsin es famous for pasties." Mr.Fogo, remembering that, with the exception of the mug of beer at the "King of Prussia," he had not broken his fast since the morning, and seeing also that the hospitality was anxiously sincere, complied.
In a few moments both he and Caleb were seated before a steaming pasty.
Tamsin poured out the tea.

She was a full twenty years younger than her brothers, as could be seen notwithstanding their boyish look, which came from innocence and clean-shaven faces.

It was pleasant to see their almost fatherly pride in her.