It is in the blood." "I _know_ it's a come-down," Sam owned.

"And a shilling at most for overtime--meanin' no offence--" Mr.Mortimer waved a hand.
"If," said he, "it be a question of my rendering you any small service, I beg, my friend--I command--that all question of pecuniary recompense be left out of the discussion." Sam, feeling that he had to deal with a noble character, explained that the job was an easy one; merely to lead or ride one of the horses down the hauling-path to where the boat lay, to hitch on the tackle, cast off straps, pull up and ship the two crowbars to which they were made fast, and so take the tiller and steer home.

The horse knew his business, and would do the rest.
"And you can't mistake the boat.

_Duchess of Teck_ is her name, an' she lies about three ropes' lengths this side of the iron bridge, just as you come abreast o' the brick wall that belongs to the Orph'nage." "Bring forth the steed," commanded Mr.Mortimer.

"Nay, I will accompany you to the stables and fetch him." "_And_ the saucepan! Don't forget the saucepan!" Mrs.Mortimer called after them in a sprightly voice as they crossed the yard together.
"Ha, the saucepan!" Within the stable doorway Mr.Mortimer stood still and pressed a hand to his brow.