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Updated: June 3, 2025
'O Nell, come, come quick! they said, 'there's the step-ladder outside Poll's window, and a bit of rope and two towels fastened together hanging to the sill, and the window is wide open! Miss Helen ran downstairs with a face like a sheet, and by and by Alice came up and told me the rest.
Then steps crossed the room, someone knelt beside her, put an arm around her and said: "Kate, why are you crying?" Kate lifted her head suddenly, and applied her apron skirt. "None of your business," she said to Robert's face, six inches from hers. "Are you so anxious as all this about Little Poll's teeth?" he asked. "Oh, DRAT Little Poll's teeth!" cried Kate, the tears rolling uninterruptedly.
Bob Fagin was an orphan, and lived with his brother-in-law, a waterman. Poll Green's father had the additional distinction of being a fireman, and was employed at Drury Lane Theatre, where another relation of Poll's, I think his little sister, did imps in the pantomimes.
'The brat! says she, laughing like mad, 'oh, I got rid o' that when you were in jail, Bill. 'As how? says I. 'Why, there was a woman begging agin St. Poll's churchyard; so I purtended to see a friend at a distance: "'Old the babby a moment," says I, puffing and panting, "while I ketches my friend yonder."
I have put two and two together, just as the parish will be doing tomorrow, and the whole of Tweeddale in two weeks, and the black brothers well, I won't put a date on that; it will be a dark and stormy morning! Your secret, in other words, is poor Poll's. And I want to ask of you as a friend whether you like the prospect?
"Queer my glims, if that be n't little Paul!" "Ay, Dummie, here I am! Not been long without being laid by the heels, you see! Life is short; we must make the best use of our time!" Upon this, Mr. "Vy, laus-a-me! if you be n't knocked o' the head! Your poll's as bloody as Murphy's face ven his throat's cut!"
'Can't, said the boy coolly, 'I'm goin' ter tie it to Poll's balloon, an' let go of the string, an' then it'll go straight to heaven, and, with the letter reposing in his cheek, he began to sing vociferously: "I want ter be an angel, An' with the angels stand; A crown upon my forehead, A harp within my hand." 'Git mad now, P'liney, quick, fer I want that knife orful.
The former part of Poll's character, however, was all that had ever reached the youthful ears of poor innocent Mary, whilst of her address as a diplomatist in the plots and pursuits of love, she was utterly ignorant.
There's nothing like telling the truth, after all: and I'll take care it doesn't get about the town till the poll's closed." On the stroke of eight, when Roger Newte, as Mayor and Returning Officer, declared the poll open, down the street came the blue-and-gold band, with Dr. Macann and Mr. Saule behind it bowing and smiling in a two-horse shay, and a fine pillaloo of supporters.
"Now THERE you are in error," said the literal Agatha, as she smoothed down Little Poll's skirts and twisted her ringlets into formal corkscrews. "Right THERE, you are in error, my dear.
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