“He said they were the best they had got,” I explained.
“Shut up, or you’ll be kicked out, young Sarah.”
“I’ve a right to speak.”
“No, you haven’t—unless you hold your tongue.”
“If I held my tongue, I couldn’t possibly speak,” I explained.
“Turn him out!” cried the paupers. Whereat I subsided.
“The paupers,” continued the minutes, “had beastly little go in them, and ought to have had a meal of hay before starting (interruption), and will be badly kicked if they don’t shut up. The Firefly had the best of the race up.” (Here there were most indignant protests from the crew of the gallant Sarah; and the question was argued out with some energy on the floor of the shoe-room before Langrish could proceed.)
“Nature was dressed in her most pristine colours, and the incandescent hues of the autumn leaves brought cries of enjoyment out of the mouths of the Ph.C.C, except the paupers, whose mouths were too full for utterance.”
This paragraph was not likely to pass unchallenged. Coxhead impeached its grammar, Trimble its taste, and the paupers its accuracy, and a very heated argument ensued, at the end of which it was agreed to let the door stand open a few minutes to get rid of the dust.
“Arrived at Camp Hill, a flock of jibbering apes were discovered, headed by the president’s arch-enemy. Brown iii.”