Some of these he named; others were exhibited with a single adjective, uttered curtly, as between men who required no great tale of words wherewith to understand each other.

A few were considered to be of sufficient value and importance to tell their own story and make their way in the world thereupon.

He held these out with a face of grave and contemplative patronage.
"Never, Nestorius," Meredith would say gravely, "in the course of a long and varied experience, have I seen a Worcester-sauce stopper of such transcendent beauty." Sometimes Nestorius clambered on to the bed, when the mosquito-curtains were up, and rested from his labours--a small curled-up form, looking very comfortable.

And then, when his mother's soft voice called him, he was wont to gather up his belongings and take his departure.

On the threshold he always paused, finger in mouth, to utter a valedictory "Bad case" before making his way downstairs with a shadowy, mystic smile.
Kind neighbours called, and well-meaning but mistaken dissenting missionaries left religious works of a morbid nature, eminently suitable to the sick-bed; but Joseph, Marie, and Nestorius were the only three who had free access to the quiet room.
And all the while the rain fell--night and day, morning, noon, and evening--as if the flood-gates had been left open by mistake.
"Sloobrious, no doubt," said Joseph, "but blamed depressing." And he shook his head at the lowering sky with a tolerant smile, which was his way of taking Providence to task.
"Do y' know what I would like, missis ?" he asked briskly of Marie one evening.
"No." "Well, I'd like to clap my eyes on Miss Gordon, just a stepping in at that open door--that's what we want.