"You were always such a fastidious boy--even dandified.

Doesn't anybody ever cut your hair?
Doesn't somebody keep your clothes in order ?" "Yes, but I tear 'em again," he replied, carefully examining a small dark-red newt which he held in the palm of one hand.

"I say, Kathleen, look at this little creature.

I was messing about under the ledges along Hurryon Brook, and found this amphibious gentleman occupying the ground-floor apartment of a flat stone." Kathleen craned her dainty neck over the shoulder of his ragged shooting coat.
"He's red enough to be poisonous, isn't he?
Oh, do be careful!" "It's only a young newt.

Take him in your hand; he's cool and clammy and rather agreeable." "Scott, I won't touch him!" "Yes, you will!" He caught her by the arm; "I'm going to teach you not to be afraid of things outdoors.