"It doesn't look right I believe because your own name's Richardson, you think everybody else is Richard's son too." And the perpetrator of this very mild joke bent his head over his learned thumb-nail, and frowned.
It was a point of honour at Mountjoy always to punish a joke summarily, whether good, bad, or indifferent.

For a short time, consequently, the paternity of Edward the Fifth was lost sight of, as was also Coote himself, in the performance of the duty which devolved on Richardson and his companion.
This matter of business being at last satisfactorily settled, and Tom, the driver, who had considerately pulled up by the road-side during the "negotiations," being ordered to "forge ahead," the party returned to its former attitude of gloomy anticipation.
"It's a precious rum thing," said Richardson, "neither you nor Heathcote can remember a simple question like that.

I'd almost forgot it, myself." "I know I shan't remember anything when the time comes," said Heathcote.
"I said my Latin Syntax over to Ashford, without a mistake, yesterday, and I've forgotten every word of it now." "What I funk is the _viva voce_ Latin prose," said Coote.

"I say, Dick, what's the gender of 'Amnis, a river ?'" Dick looked knowing, and laughed.
"None of your jokes," said he, "you don't catch me that way--'Amnis,' a city, is neuter." Coote's face lengthened, as he made a further note on his other thumb- nail.
"I could have sworn it was a river," said he.

"I say, whatever shall I do?
I don't know how I shall get through it." "Through what--the river ?" said Heathcote.