You know,' says the Doctor, 'it is n't my business to settle whether other people's children should dance or not.' And the Doctor looked as if he should like to rigadoon and sashy across as well as the young one he was talkin' about.

He 's got blood in him, the old Doctor has.

I wish our little man and him would swop pulpits." Deacon Soper started and looked up into the Colonel's face, as if to see whether he was in earnest.
Mr.Silas Peckham and his lady joined the group.
"Is this to be a Temperance Celebration, Mrs.Sprowle ?" asked Mr.Silas Peckham.
Mrs.Sprowle replied, "that there would be lemonade and srub for those that preferred such drinks, but that the Colonel had given folks to understand that he did n't mean to set in judgment on the marriage in Canaan, and that those that didn't like srub and such things would find somethin' that would suit them better." Deacon Soper's countenance assumed a certain air of restrained cheerfulness.

The conversation rose into one of its gusty paroxysms just then.

Master H.Frederic got behind a door and began performing the experiment of stopping and unstopping his ears in rapid alternation, greatly rejoicing in the singular effect of mixed conversation chopped very small, like the contents of a mince-pie, or meat-pie, as it is more forcibly called in the deep-rutted villages lying along the unsalted streams.