Her husband protested.
"Come, come, Maria--you know I'm not that sort of man!" "How do I know what sort of man you are, under all that dirt?
For my part, if I'd been a magistrate, you shouldn't have walked off with the boy till you'd washed yourself, not if you'd gone down on your hands and knees for it; and him with his face shining all over like a little Moses on the Mount, which does the lady credit if she's the one you saw; though how they can dress children up like pickle-herrings it beats me.

Your bed's at the top of the house, child, and there you'll find a suit o' clothes that I've washed and aired after the last boy.

I only hope you won't catch any of his nasty tricks in 'em.

Straight up the stairs and the little door to the left at the top." "Unless"-- Mr.Trapp picked up courage for one more pleasantry--"you'd like to make a start at once and go up by way of the chimbley." He was rash.

As a pugilist might eye a recovering opponent supposed to be stunned, so Mrs.Trapp eyed Mr.Trapp.
"I thought I told you plain enough," she said, "that you're a lowering man.