The butler looked proud.
"I feel as much elated," said John, "as if I had raised them myself.

Is Nicholas here ?" "Yes, sir, and he has been saying that if the soil of your garden could only be kept dry, they would be finer still." "Dry!" exclaimed Valentine, "you can't keep anything dry in such a climate as this--not even your jokes." "Hear, hear," said John Mortimer; "if the old man was not a teetotaler, and I myself were not so nearly concerned in this public recognition of _our_ merits, I should certainly propose his health." "Don't let such considerations sway you," exclaimed Valentine rising.
"Jones, will you tell him that you left me on my legs, proposing his health in ginger-pop--'Mr.Nicholas Swan.'" Mr.Nicholas Swan.

Not one word of the ridiculous speech which followed the toast was heard by Laura, nor did she observe the respectful glee with which the butler retired, saying, "I think we've got a rise out of the _True Blue_ now, sir.

I'm told, sir, that the potatoes shown by the _other side_, compared with these, seemed no bigger than bullets." Mr.Nicholas Swan.

A sudden beating at the heart kept Mrs.Melcombe silent, and as for Laura, she had never blushed so deeply in her life.
Joseph's name was Swan, and it flashed into her mind in an instant that he had told her his father was a gardener.
She sat lost in thought, and nervous, scarcely able to answer when some casual remark was made to her, and the meal was over before she had succeeded in persuading herself that this man could not be Joseph's father, because her coming straight to the place where he lived was _too_ improbable.
"There goes Swanny across the lawn, father," said one of the twins, and thereupon they all went to the bow-window, and calling the old man, began to congratulate him, while he leaned his arms on the window-frame, which was at a convenient height from the ground, and gave them an account of his success.
They grouped themselves on the seats near.