Bang, bang.

It's a mercy t' bothom isn't deaved out!' It _was_ rather a rough mess, I own, when poured into the basins; four had been provided, and a gallon pitcher of new milk was brought from the dairy, which Hareton seized and commenced drinking and spilling from the expansive lip.

I expostulated, and desired that he should have his in a mug; affirming that I could not taste the liquid treated so dirtily.

The old cynic chose to be vastly offended at this nicety; assuring me, repeatedly, that 'the barn was every bit as good' as I, 'and every bit as wollsome,' and wondering how I could fashion to be so conceited.
Meanwhile, the infant ruffian continued sucking; and glowered up at me defyingly, as he slavered into the jug.
'I shall have my supper in another room,' I said.

'Have you no place you call a parlour ?' '_Parlour_!' he echoed, sneeringly, '_parlour_! Nay, we've noa _parlours_.