I hope they gave you--eh ?--eh?
(he peeped into the cream-ewer, which he turned towards the light, with a whisk).

And no disputing the eggs--forty-eight hens in the poultry yard, and ninety ducks in Tresham's little garden, next door to Sturk's.

They make a precious noise, I can tell you, when it showers.

Sturk threatens to shoot 'em.

He's the artillery surgeon here; and Tom Larkin said, last night, it's because they only dabble and quack--and two of a trade, you know--ha! ha! ha! And what a night we had--dark as Erebus--pouring like pumps, by Jove.