`'Tis their natur' to.'" "Natur' or no natur', they shan't play those games while I'm master here." "Eh?
Didn't know you was, Brooky." "Then you know it now.

P'r'aps you're going to give yourself a holiday." "Having one," said the old man, breaking a refractory clod.
"And going to take yourself off to the bush to have a corroborree with the blackfellows." "And if I was I shouldn't ask your leave, Snaggy," said the old man, showing more of his teeth.

"There, let 'em go.

They'll come back and work all the better after." "Heugh!" cried Brookes, giving vent to a final grunt; and he turned away and stalked out of the garden, striking the fork-handle down at every step.
"Lookye here," said old Samson, taking up a spadeful of earth, and addressing it as if part of the dust of the earth of which he was made, and therefore worthy of his confidence: "sooner than I'd have old Brooky's nasty temper I'd be a kangaroo or a cat.

I'm sorry they sloped off, though.