"Grab him! Don't let him get away!" she cried excitedly.
The boy did so, seizing one foot while she seized the other.
Then, from the depths of the foliage came a voice as shy and as plaintive as that of the hermit thrush, murmuring, "It's Wimley!"
[BLACK JITNEY]
The Auto-Biography of a Ford
(A twentieth-century revision of "Black Beauty")
The first thing I can remember was being shoveled out of a great incubator, called a factory, along with several hundred brothers and sisters. All the men in that factory wore diamond shirt-studs.