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With a growing sense of his peril he resolved to try flattery. "It was a great thing for the Brethren to secure a man like you," he said. "I never thought they'd ha' done it," said Mr. Burge frankly. "I've 'ad all sorts trying to convert me; crying over me and praying over me. I remember the first dear good man that called me a lorst lamb. He didn't say anything else for a month."
It was mainly composed of ragged boys, but here and there were men, women, and girls, who came into view for a moment under the lights as the mob heaved and went round and round like a boiling potful. Two policemen joined the ticket-collectors, and though it was a good-humored gathering, the air was thick with such cries as these: "I lorst my ticket, ain't I telling yer?
'Well, I ses, 'sir, to be 'onest with you, don't you mention that there fact to anybody but me' because when a lidy goes out of her mind over a lorst dawg up goes the price, and you can't calculate bank-rate, as they ses. The price'll go up fablous, Mr. Orkins; there's nothin' rules the market like that there.
'You har a honor to the British Harmy, sez 'e. With that e' describes the hawful band of dacoits wot set on 'im. There was about forty of 'em an' 'e was hoverpowered by numbers, so 'e was; but 'e never lorst 'is presence of mind, so 'e didn't. 'E guv the hekka-driver five rupees for 'is noble assistance, an' 'e said 'e would see to us after 'e 'ad spoken to the Kernul.
They smiled on each other, and at those parts of the service which they thought suggestive violently nudged one another in the ribs. When the ring had to be produced, Harry fumbled about in different pockets, and his brother whispered: 'Swop me bob, 'e's gone and lorst it!
The three unemployed accordingly resumed their march round the room, singing mournfully and imitating the usual whine of street-singers: 'Trim your fee-bil lamp me brither-in, Some poor sail-er tempest torst, Strugglin' 'ard to save the 'arb-er, Hin the dark-niss may be lorst, So let try lower lights be burning, Send 'er gleam acrost the wave, Some poor shipwrecked, struggling seaman, You may rescue, you may save.
"I take my pen in and to inform you that I'm stayin here and cant get away for the reason that I lorst my cloes at cribage larst night, also my money, and everything beside. Don't speek to a living sole about it as the mate wants my birth, but pack up sum cloes and bring them to me without saying nuthing to noboddy. The mates cloths will do becos I havent got enny other soot, dont tell 'im.
Why, it's knowed dreckly all round Mile End the werry 'ome of lorst dorgs and that there dorg, find him when you wool, why, he ain't worth more'n fourteen bob, sir. Now, 'ow d'ye 'count for that, sir?" "You've seen him, then?" "Not I," says Sam, unmoved even by a twitch; "but I knows a party as 'as, and it ain't likely, Mr. Orkins, as you'll get 'im by orferin' a price like that, for why?
If you listen to stories Lord! You'll get afraid of yourself in a field at midday." The little boy looked round and ceased his questions for a space. "They say there's a 'og man in Beck'n'am what was lost in London three days and three nights. 'E went up after whiskey to Cheapside, and lorst 'is way among the ruins and wandered.
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