Sabine Baring-Gould

“ Hold the slate up, Scanty."
"That's not a goose," said Jamie.
"Not a goose! You don't know what geese are."
"Yes, I do," retorted the boy, resentfully, "I know the wild goose and the tame one—which do you call that?"
"Oh, wild goose, of course."
"It's not one. A goose hasn't a tail like that, nor such legs," said Jamie, contemptuously.
Mr. Scantlebray, senior, looked at Messrs. Vokins and Jukes and shook his head. "A bad case. Don't know a goose when he sees it—and he is eighteen." ”

“ How are you? Never more charmed in my life, and ready to impart knowledge, as the sun diffuses light. Obadiah, old man, look at your pupil—better already for having passed through your hands. I can see it at a glance; there's a brightness, a Je ne sais quoi about him that was not there before. Old man, I congratulate you. You have a gift—shake hands."
The gentlemen seated themselves without invitation. Surprise and alarm made Judith forget her usual courtesy. She feared lest the sight of his gaolers might excite Jamie. ”

“ I will have my shilling. That man took it away. He is a cheat, a thief. Give me my shilling."
"I am afraid he is excitable," said Vokins.
"Like all irrational beings," answered Jukes. "I'll make a note. Rising out of hallucinations."
"I will have my shilling," persisted Jamie. "Give me my shilling or I'll throw the ink at you."
He caught up the ink-pot, and before Judith had time to interfere had flung it across the table, intending to hit Mr. Scantlebray, senior, but not hurt him, and the black fluid was scattered over Mr.Vokins's white trousers. ”