We should begin, said my father, turning himself half round in bed, and shifting his pillow a little towards my mother’s, as he opened the debate⸺We should begin to think, Mrs. Shandy , of putting this boy into breeches.⸺
We should so,—said my mother.⸺We defer it, my dear, quoth my father, shamefully.⸻
I think we do, Mr. Shandy ,—said my mother.
⸺Not but the child looks extremely well, said my father, in his vests and tunicks.⸻
⸻He does look very well in them,—replied my mother.⸻
⸺And for that reason it would be almost a sin, added my father, to take him out of ’em.⸺
⸺It would so,—said my mother:⸺But indeed he is growing a very tall lad,—rejoined my father.
⸺He is very tall for his age, indeed,—said my mother.⸺
⸺I can not (making two syllables of it) imagine, quoth my father, who the deuce he takes after.⸺
I cannot conceive, for my life,—said my mother.⸺
Humph!⸺said my father.
(The dialogue ceased for a moment.)
⸺I am very short myself,—continued my father gravely.