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Now, when the journey of the travelling coach, at that very moment waiting for the completion of its load, had been planned out last night, the difficulty of taking Miss Pross in it had much engaged Mr. Lorry's attention.
I may use that freedom with your name?" "I think so, Carton, by this time." They shook hands upon it, and Sydney turned away. Within a minute afterwards, he was, to all outward appearance, as unsubstantial as ever. When he was gone, and in the course of an evening passed with Miss Pross, the Doctor, and Mr.
Lorry went into his room with a chopper, saw, chisel, and hammer, attended by Miss Pross carrying a light. There, with closed doors, and in a mysterious and guilty manner, Mr. Lorry hacked the shoemaker's bench to pieces, while Miss Pross held the candle as if she were assisting at a murder for which, indeed, in her grimness, she was no unsuitable figure.
This, with an angry explanatory wave of her right arm. "I little thought," said Miss Pross, "that I should ever want to understand your nonsensical language; but I would give all I have, except the clothes I wear, to know whether you suspect the truth, or any part of it." Neither of them for a single moment released the other's eyes.
"You didn't mean it," remarked the matter-of-fact Miss Pross, "and therefore how could you know it? Nonsense!" "Really? Well; but don't cry," said the gentle Mr. Lorry. "I am not crying," said Miss Pross; "you are." "I, my Pross?" "You were, just now; I saw you do it, and I don't wonder at it. Such a present of plate as you have made 'em, is enough to bring tears into anybody's eyes.
Miss Pross was a pleasant sight, albeit wild, and red, and grim, taking off her darling's bonnet when she came up-stairs, and touching it up with the ends of her handkerchief, and blowing the dust off it, and folding her mantle ready for laying by, and smoothing her rich hair with as much pride as she could possibly have taken in her own hair if she had been the vainest and handsomest of women.
"Now don't be angry at my asking all these questions; because I am a mere dull man of business, and you are a woman of business." "Dull?" Miss Pross inquired, with placidity. Rather wishing his modest adjective away, Mr. Lorry replied, "No, no, no. Surely not.
As there are several stage words of manifest Gipsy origin, I am inclined to derive this from the old Gipsy Priss, to read. In English Gipsy Prasser or Pross means to ridicule or scorn. Something of this is implied in the slang word Pross, since it also means "to sponge upon a comrade," &c., "for drink." TOSHERS are in English low language, "men who steal copper from ship's bottoms."
To think that there might have been a Mrs. Lorry, any time these fifty years almost!" "Not at all!" From Miss Pross. "You think there never might have been a Mrs. Lorry?" asked the gentleman of that name. "Pooh!" rejoined Miss Pross; "you were a bachelor in your cradle." "Well!" observed Mr. Lorry, beamingly adjusting his little wig, "that seems probable, too."
Now, my dear Lucie," drawing his arm soothingly round her waist, "I hear them moving in the next room, and Miss Pross and I, as two formal folks of business, are anxious not to lose the final opportunity of saying something to you that you wish to hear.
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