The white-whiskered gentleman now encouraged his angry fox-terriers, by every means at his command, to continue their vile and degrading occupation; holding on all the time to the ears of Dicky and Noel, who scorned to ask for mercy.

Dicky got purple and Noel got white.
It was Oswald who said-- 'Don't hang on to them, sir.

We won't cut.

I give you my word of honour.' 'YOUR word of honour,' said the gentleman, in tones for which, in happier days, when people drew their bright blades and fought duels, I would have had his heart's dearest blood.

But now Oswald remained calm and polite as ever.
'Yes, on my honour,' he said, and the gentleman dropped the ears of Oswald's brothers at the sound of his firm, unswerving tones.