Now come upstairs.

Your letter has thrown me quite into a flutter.
"Never say anything in English before those Poles," he said, as he left the shop; "the fellows pick up languages as easily as I can drink whisky, when I get the chance.

One of them has been with me two years, and it is quite likely he understands, at any rate, something of what is said.
"Here we are." He opened a door, and ushered Charlie into a large room, comfortably furnished.

His wife, a boy eight years of age, and a girl a year older, were seated at the table.
"Janet," the merchant said, "this is Captain Carstairs, alias Sandy Anderson, a connection of ours, though I cannot say, for certain, of what degree." "What are you talking of, Allan ?" she asked in surprise; for her husband, after opening and partly reading the letter, had jumped up and run off without saying a word.
"What I say, wife.

This gentleman is, for the present, Sandy Anderson, who has come out to learn the business and language, with the intent of some day entering into partnership with me; also, which is more to the point, he is a friend of my good friend Jock Jamieson, whom you remember well in the old days." "I am very glad, indeed, to see any friend of Jock Jamieson," Janet Ramsay said warmly, holding out her hand to Charlie, "though I do not in the least understand what my husband is talking about, or what your name really is." "My name is Carstairs, madam.