Ay, that's what maks him turn up his nose at you.

But your mother is fond o' you, gloves or no gloves." She told the baby the story of the glove daily, with many monstrous additions.
When Corp came home from his work, she said that a poor, love-lorn female had called with a boot for him, and a request that he should carry it in the pocket of his Sabbath breeks.
Worst of all, she listened to what he said in the night.

Corp had a habit of talking in his sleep.

He was usually taking tickets at such times, and it had been her custom to stop him violently; but now she changed her tactics: she encouraged him.

"I would be lying in my bed," he said to Tommy, "dreaming that a man had fallen into the Slugs, and instead o' trying to save him I cried out, 'Tickets there, all tickets ready,' and first he hands me a glove and neist he hands me a boot and havers o' that kind sich as onybody dreams.