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Boxer, with an aggravating smile. "And then get 'im up in the box as a witness, little bowl and all. He can tell you more than I can." "I demand to know her name and address," cried Mrs. Gimpson, putting a bony arm around the waist of the trembling Mrs. Boxer. "I decline to give it," said Mr. Boxer, with great relish.
"Mother got a cold?" he inquired, eying that lady. "No, I ain't," said Mrs. Gimpson, answering for herself. "Why didn't you write when you got to Sydney?" "Didn't know where to write to," replied Mr. Boxer, staring. "I didn't know where Mary had gone to." "You might ha' wrote here," said Mrs. Gimpson. "Didn't think of it at the time," said Mr. Boxer.
"Mother got a cold?" he inquired, eying that lady. "No, I ain't," said Mrs. Gimpson, answering for herself. "Why didn't you write when you got to Sydney?" "Didn't know where to write to," replied Mr. Boxer, staring. "I didn't know where Mary had gone to." "You might ha' wrote here," said Mrs. Gimpson. "Didn't think of it at the time," said Mr. Boxer.
Gimpson sniffed and eyed his retreating figure disparagingly; Mrs. Boxer, prompted by her husband, began to set the table for supper. It was a lengthy meal, owing principally to Mr. Boxer, but it was over at last, and after that gentleman had assisted in shutting up the shop they joined the Thompsons, who were waiting outside, and set off for Crowner's Alley. The way was enlivened by Mr.
A slow, dragging footstep was heard approaching in reply to the summons, and the astrologer, recognising his visitor as one of his most faithful and credulous clients, invited her to step inside. Mrs. Gimpson complied, and, taking a chair, gazed at the venerable white beard and small, red-rimmed eyes of her host in some perplexity as to how to begin.
You needn't say who I am; say I'm a friend, and tell 'im never to mind about making mischief, but to say right out where I am and what I've been doing all this time. I have my 'opes it'll cure you of your superstitiousness." "We'll go round after we've shut up, mother," said Mrs. Boxer. "We'll have a bit o' supper first and then start early." Mrs. Gimpson hesitated.
"I only wanted to come in and make a clean breast of it," he said, in a curious voice; "then I'll go." Mrs. Gimpson stood aside to let him pass, and Mr. Thompson, not to be denied, followed close behind with his faintly protesting wife. They sat down in a row against the wall, and Mr. Boxer, sitting opposite in a hang-dog fashion, eyed them with scornful wrath. "Well?" said Mrs. Boxer, at last.
Boxer, separating the stubble with her fingers, uttered an exclamation of pity and alarm at the extent of the scar; Mrs. Gimpson, craning forward, uttered a sound which might mean anything even pity. "When I come to my senses," continued Mr. Boxer, "the ship was sinking, and I just got to my feet when she went down and took me with her. How I escaped I don't know.
If you do, the danger to yourself will be so terrible that even I may be unable to help you." Mrs. Gimpson shivered, and more than ever impressed by his marvellous powers made her way slowly home, where she found the unconscious Mr. Boxer relating his adventures again with much gusto to a married couple from next door. "It's a wonder he's alive," said Mr.
Boxer, separating the stubble with her fingers, uttered an exclamation of pity and alarm at the extent of the scar; Mrs. Gimpson, craning forward, uttered a sound which might mean anything even pity. "When I come to my senses," continued Mr. Boxer, "the ship was sinking, and I just got to my feet when she went down and took me with her. How I escaped I don't know.
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