Fortunately, it missed its aim, and she stood for a moment irresolute at the door, while her uncle, without looking at her, continued to rail at his much-enduring domestic, whom he was accustomed to manage by swearing at and flattering in turns.

His voice was a guttural rumbling, which seemed to come from some cavernous bronchial depths.
"Ain't the little gel come yet ?" "Uncle, here I am," said Valmai, approaching the bed with a frightened look, though she tried to put on a placid smile.
The shaggy head turned on its pillow.
"Hello and so you are; in spite of that old witch saying for the last hour that you couldn't 'acome yet.

Come here, my beauty, and shake hands with your old uncle.

Ay've got one hand, you see, to shake with you." "Yes, uncle, and to throw books at me when I come in." There was a low, gurgling laugh, which deepened the colour in the old man's face so much that Valmai, fearing he was going to have a fit, hastened to say something quiet and calming.
"I came as soon as I could, uncle.

We were so sorry to hear of your accident.