We had called him Dentist ever since the fox-hunt day.

He called a council as if he had been used to calling such things all his life, and having them come, too; whereas we all know that his former existing was that of a white mouse in a trap, with that cat of a Murdstone aunt watching him through the bars.
(That is what is called a figure of speech.

Albert's uncle told me.) Councils are held in the straw-loft.

As soon as we were all there, and the straw had stopped rustling after our sitting down, Dicky said-- 'I hope it's nothing to do with the Wouldbegoods ?' 'No,' said Denny in a hurry: 'quite the opposite.' 'I hope it's nothing wrong,' said Dora and Daisy together.
'It's--it's "Hail to thee, blithe spirit--bird thou never wert",' said Denny.

'I mean, I think it's what is called a lark.' 'You never know your luck.