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"I'm not so fond of telling my age to strangers." "You told mine," retorted Mr. Jobling, "and nobody asked you to do that. Very free you was in coming out with mine." "I ain't the only one that's free," breathed the quivering Mrs. Jobling. "I 'ope your ankle is better?" she added, turning to the visitor. "Much better, thank you," was the reply. "Got far to go?" queried Mrs. Jobling.
"And well it may, sir. I only 'ope it won't get you into trouble, for if the p'leece go lookin' for a burglar, or murderer, or desprit ruffian, where you 'appen to be, they're sure to run you in. The only think I would point out, sir, if I may be so free, is that your 'ands an' face is too clean."
There, thank 'e, sir; I dare say that'll do; they won't be able to see or 'ear us from where we are now, for I couldn't see you until you was close under the counter. Well, you've come, sir, God be thanked; and I 'ope you'll be able to 'elp us; because if you can't it'll be a precious bad job for some of us." And the fellow sighed heavily with mingled apprehension and relief.
As an earnest of good faith, he consented, after a short struggle, to a slip of oil-cloth for the passage; a pair of vases for the front room; and a new and somewhat expensive corn-cure for Mrs. Billing. "And let's 'ope you go on as you've begun," said that gratified lady. "There's something in old Purnip after all. I've been worrying you for months for that oilcloth.
Bendemeer!" and the Oracle, without knowing which is Bendemeer, takes up the cry feverishly. "Bendemeer! Bendemeer!" he yells, waggling his glasses about, trying to see where the animal is. "Where's Royal Scot, Charley? Where's Royal Scot?" screams one of his friends, in agony. "'Ow's he doin'?" "No 'ope!" says the Oracle, with fiendish glee. "Bendemeer! Bendemeer!"
"Blue were her eyes as the fairy flax, Her cheeks like the dawn of day, And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds That ope in the month of May." Bab was quite as pretty, but in another way. She had brilliant dark eyes and straight dark hair with a satin gloss. She was half a head shorter than her "auntie," though their ages were about the same.
"Think of poor Jim," added Bill; "he's 'ad fifty masters, been ten years in slavery, and not free yet; and no 'ope av it neyther." "Shall we go quietly with our new master?" asked Colin. "Yes," answered Harry; "I have had quite enough of resistance, and the beating that is sure to follow it. My back is raw at this moment.
An' I do 'ope, Mis' Deane, as now yer goin' off to 'and over old David's effecks to the party interested, ye'll come back safe, for the poor old dear 'adn't a penny to bless 'isself with, so the cinder must mean the journey, an' bein' warned, ye'll guard agin the coffin at the end." Mary smiled rather sadly. "I'll take care!" she said. "But I don't think anything very serious is likely to happen.
"untrodden region of the mind, Where branchëd thoughts, new-grown with pleasant pain, Instead of pines, shall murmur in the wind; Far, far around shall these dark clustered trees, Fledge the wild ridgëd mountains steep by steep, And there by zephyrs, streams, and birds and bees, The moss-lain Dryads shall be lulled to sleep; And in the midst of this wide quietness, A rosy sanctuary will I dress With the wreathed trellis of a working brain, With buds and bells and stars without a name, With all the gardener Fancy e'er could feign, Who, breeding flowers, will never breed the same; And there shall be for thee all soft delight, That shadowy thought can win, A bright torch and a casement ope at night, To let the warm Love in!"
If there ain't no space, you might pop off before I could hop round the bed." "Is it often dangerous?" faltered Mavis. "That depends. 'Ave you walked much?" "A good deal. Why?" "That's in yer favour. But I 'ope nothin' will 'appen, for my sake. I can't do with any more scandals here. I've my Oscar to think of." "Scandals?" queried Mavis.
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