“Then you must make a country gentleman of me.”
“And send Pa into dunghills,” roared Tug.
“Then you must go to operas, and pick up foreign Barons and Counts.”
“Oh, thank heaven, dearest papa, that we are rid of them,” cries my little Jemimarann, looking almost happy, and kissing her old pappy.
“And you must make a fine gentleman of Tug there, and send him to a fine school.”
“And I give you my word,” says Tug, “I'm as ignorant a chap as ever lived.”
“You're an insolent saucebox,” says Jemmy; “you've learned that at your fine school.”
“I've learned something else, too, ma'am; ask the boys if I haven't,” grumbles Tug.
“You hawk your daughter about, and just escape marrying her to a swindler.”
“And drive off poor Orlando,” whimpered my girl.