"Thank you! thank you, papa! Oh, Ritchie! Oh, Margaret!" cried she, in a breathless voice of transport.
"You have worked yourself up to a fine pass," said the doctor, patting the agitated girl fondly as she leaned against his knee.

"Remember, slow and steady." "I've got Richard to help me," said Ethel.
"Sufficient guarantee," said her father, smiling archly as he looked up to his son, whose fair face had coloured deep red.

"You will keep the Unready in order, Ritchie." "He does," said Margaret; "he has taken her education into his hands, and I really believe he has taught her to hold up her frock and stick in pins." "And to know her right hand from her left, eh, Ethel?
Well, you deserve some credit, then.

Suppose we ask Mr.Wilmot to tea, and talk it over." "Oh, thank you, papa! When shall it be?
To-morrow ?" "Yes, if you like.

I have to go to the town-council meeting, and am not going into the country, so I shall be in early." "Thank you.