“Every one. O'Higgins struck a match and lit his Henry Clay, thereby drawing upon himself the mutual disapproval of the spinsters. They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other. ” He woke the glassy water to swirling activity again, and made the deep-blue shapes below writhe and shiver. At the door to the kitchen, he called out, ‘Pottiswick!’ The old man came out, shoving his chin in the air and glaring. " "I won't reproach you, Jack," said the other, sternly.
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