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“It’s the Queen’s English now,’ observed Peter mildly. ‘Is there a difference?’ asked Oundle rhetorically. ‘I fervently hope not.’ ‘There will be in time,’ said Peter. ‘That will be deplorable,’ replied Oudle. ‘I shall not myself deviate by a syllable from correct usage.’ ‘My language is foul, and yours is Fowler?’ said Peter, and added one of his sudden quirky smiles, ‘or know your Onions.’ This quip crossed the barrier of the table, because the man sitting nearly opposite Peter laughed. ‘Onions?’ said Oudle. ‘C.T. Onions, I imagine,’ said the man opposite. ‘Editor of the Oxford English Dictionary.’ ‘Oh, I see,’ said Oudle. ‘Very droll.” — Jill Paton Walsh
It’s the Queen’s English now,’ observed Peter mildly.
‘Is there a difference?’ asked Oundle rhetorically. ‘I fervently hope not.’
‘There will be in time,’ said Peter.
‘That will be deplorable,’ replied Oudle. ‘I shall not myself deviate by a syllable from correct usage.’
‘My language is foul, and yours is Fowler?’ said Peter, and added one of his sudden quirky smiles, ‘or know your Onions.’
This quip crossed the barrier of the table, because the man sitting nearly opposite Peter laughed.
‘Onions?’ said Oudle.
‘C.T. Onions, I imagine,’ said the man opposite. ‘Editor of the Oxford English Dictionary.’
‘Oh, I see,’ said Oudle. ‘Very droll.