“Shut up, can’t you?” said the secretary, “can’t you let me finish the sentence? ‘—See him sus—susceptible of better emotions.’”
“Hear, hear,” said the club, breathing again to see the corner turned.
“I hope that’s not all,” said my mother.
“That’s as far as we’ve got; but we’ll let him down easy in the next,” said Langrish.
“The next will have the account of the Sports, I suppose,” said my mother.
“If our men win,” said Warminster. “We’re bound to win the High Jump if Langrish keeps on his form; he did 4 feet 1 and a half inches this afternoon.”
“You needn’t talk—you’re all right for the 100 Yards,” said the modest Langrish; “there’s no one in, except young Brown of the day cads, who can touch you; and he’s sure to go a mucker on the day.”
“Don’t be too sure of that,” said I. “Dicky Brown doesn’t go muckers if he can help it.”
“There you are—backing the town cads now. I move, and Mrs Jones seconds, that Sarah be, and is hereby, kic—I mean sat upon by the club.”
“Oh, don’t, please,” said my mother, “the bed is not strong enough.”