Don't you know when you are done up?
You go to bed; I'll finish your work." "Niver!" protested Freckles.

"I was just a little done up for the prisint, a minute ago.

I'm all right now.

Riding-boots are far too low.
The day's hot and the walk a good seven miles, sir.

Niver!" As he reached for the outfit he pitched forward and his eyes closed.
McLean stretched him on the moss and applied restoratives.