Page:The life and opinions of Tristram Shandy (Volume 8).pdf/142

 in my mother's face, as he forced his way betwixt her's and doctor Slop's—a few children! cried my father, repeating my uncle Toby's words as he walk'd to and fro'

—Not, my dear brother Toby, cried my father, recovering himself all at once, and coming close up to the back of my uncle Toby's chair—not that I should be sorry had'st thou a score—on the contrary I should rejoice—and be as kind, Toby, to every one of them as a father—

My uncle Toby stole his hand unperceived behind his chair, to give my father's a squeeze

—Nay, moreover, continued he, keeping hold of my uncle Toby's hand—so much do'st thou possess, my dear