"Well--what are you waiting for ?" "I was waiting for Sergeant Havlan to _begin_," was the reply.

"I thought I was to have a second dozen." With blazing eyes, bristling moustache, swollen veins and bared teeth, "Grandfather" rose from his chair.

Resting on one stick he struck and struck and struck at the boy with the other, passion feeding on its own passionate acts, and growing to madness--until, as the head gardener and Sergeant rushed forward to intervene, Dam fell to the ground, stunned by an unintentional blow on the head.
"Grandfather" stood trembling....

"_Quite_ a Stukeley," observed he.
"Oblige me by flinging his carcase down the stairs." "'Angry Stookly's mad Stookly' is about right, mate, wot ?" observed the Sergeant to the gardener, quoting an ancient local saying, as they carried Dam to his room after dispatching a groom for Dr.Jones of Monksmead.
"Dammy Darling," whispered a broken and tear-stained voice outside Dam's locked and keyless door the next morning, "are you dead yet ?" "Nit," was the prompt reply, "but I'm starving to death, fast." "I am so glad," was the sobbed answer, "for I've got some flat food to push under the door." "Shove it under," said Dam.

"Good little beast!" "I didn't know anything about the fearful fracass until tea-time," continued Lucille, "and then I went straight to Grumper and confessed, and he sent me to bed on an empty stummick and I laid upon it, the bed I mean, and howled all night, or part of it anyhow.