" "Gem'men o' the votch!" cried Sharples, as loudly as a wheezy cough would permit him, "my noble pris'ner—ough! ough;—the Markis o' Slaughterford ——" Further speech was cut short by a volley of execrations from the angry guardians of the night. Then he rallied, smiling a little. It was John Diedermayer, who had been transformed into a young scholar with a large pair of wire-rimmed eyeglasses on. " "I'm sorry. " "Get hence," continued Mrs. " "Don't say so," cried Mrs. “It’s best,” he said, “to make it a good round sum. It is in the lower cupboard.
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