"Friends, Romans, and countrymen!" say I, on that same afternoon, strutting into the school-room, with my left hand thrust oratorically into the breast of my frock, and my right loftily waving, "I wish to collect your suffrages on a certain subject.

Tell me," sitting down on a hard chair, and suddenly declining into a familiar and colloquial tone, "have you seen any signs of derangement in father lately ?" "None more than usual," answers Algy, sarcastically, lifting his pretty, disdainful nose out of his novel.

"If, as the Eton Latin Grammar says, _ira_ is a _brevis furor_ you, will agree with me that he is pretty often out of his mind, in fact, a good deal oftener than he is in it." "No, but _really_ ?" "Of course not.

What do you mean ?" "Put down all your books!" say I, impressively.

"Listen attentively.
Bobby, stop see-sawing that chair, it makes me feel deadly sick.