Stranica 141 [141]
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go-rounder !—T'ommy Chitling "s in love!
—OQOh, Fagin, Fagin! what a spree!”
Thoroughly overpowered with the
notion of Mr. Chitling being the victim
of the tender passion, Master Bates threw
himself back in his chair with such vio¬
lence, that he lost his balance, and pitch¬
ed over upon the floor, where (the acci¬
dent abating nothing of his merriment)
he lay at full length till his laugh was
over, when he resumed his former position
and began another.
“ Never mind him, my dear,” said the
Jew, winking at Mister Dawkins, and
giving Master Bates a reproving tap with
the nozzle of the bellows. “ Betsy’s a
fine girl. Stick up to her, Tom; stick
up to her.”
s What I mean to say, Fagin,” replied
Mr. Chitling, very red in the face, " is,
that that isn’t anything to anybody
here.”
* No more it is,” replied the Jew:
“Charley will talk. Don’t mind him,
my dear; don’t mind him. Betsy’s a
fine girl, Do as she bids you, Tom, and
you "11 make your fortune.’
‘So I do do as she bids me,” replied
Mr. Chitling; “I shouldn’t have been
milled if it hadn’t been for her advice.
But it turned out a good job for you;
didn’t it, Fagin? And what’s six weeks
of it? It must come some time or an¬
other,—and why not in the winter time,
when you don’t want to go out a-walking
so much; eh, Fagin?”
6 Ah, to be sure, my dear,” replied the
Jew.
“You wouldn’t mind it again, Tom,
upon Charley and the Jew, “if Bet was
right?” |
“T mean to say that I shouldn’t,” re¬
oe Tom angrily; “there, now! Ah!
Who "11 say as much as that, I should like
to know; eh, Fagin !"
“ Nobody, my dear,” replied the Jew;
“not a soul, Tom. I don’t know one of
"em that would do it besides you ; not one
of "em, my dear.”
“I might have got clear off if I "d split
upon her; mightn’t I, Fagm?”’ angrily
pursued the poor half-witted dupe. “A
word from me would have done it;
wouldn’t it, Fagin?”
6 To be sure it would, my dear,” re¬
plied the Jew.
“ But I didn’t blab it; did I, Fagin?”
demanded Tom, pouring question upon
question with great volubility.
6 No, no, to be sure," replied the Jew;
deal too stout, my dear.”
“Perhaps I was,’ rejoined Tom, look¬
ing round; “and if I was, what’s to
laugh at in that; eh, Fagin?”
he Jew, perceiving that Mr. Chitling
was considerably roused, hastened to as¬
sure him that nobody was laughing, and,
to prove the gravity of the company, ap¬
pealed to Master Bates, the principal of¬
fender; but unfortunately Charley, in
opening his mouth to reply that he was
never more serious im his life, was un¬
able to prevent the escape of such a vio¬
lent roar, that the abused Mr. Chutling,
without any preliminary ceremonies, rush¬
ed across the room and aimed a blow at
the offender, who, being skilful in evad¬
ing pursuit, ducked to avoid it, and chose
his time so well, that it lighted on the
chest of the merry old gentleman, and
caused him to stagger to the wall, where
he stood panting for breath, while Mr.
Chitling looked on in intense dismay.
‘Hark !” cried the Dodger at this mo¬
ment, “I heard the tinkler.” Catching
up the light, he crept softly up stairs.
The bell rang again with some im¬
patience while the party were in dark¬
ness. After a short pause, the Dodger
re-appeared, and whispered Fagin mys¬
teriously.
c What!” cried the Jew, "alone?"
The Dodger nodded in the affirmative,
his hand, gave Charley Bates a private
intimation in dumb show that he had bet¬
ter not be funny just then. Having per¬
formed this friendly office, he fixed his
eyes on the Jew’s face, and awaited his
directions.
The old man bit his yellow fingers,
and meditated for some seconds, his face
working with agitation the while, as if
he dreaded something, and feared to know
the worst. At length he raised his head.
s Where is he?” he asked.
The Dodger pointed to the floor above,
and made a gesture as if to leave the
room.
“Yes,” said the Jew, answering the
mute inquiry; “bring him down. Hush!
—Quiet, Charley !—gently, Tom! Scarce,
scarce !"
This brief direction to Charley Bates
and his recent antagonist to retire, was
softly and immediately obeyed. ‘There
was no sound of their whereabout when
the Dodger descended the stairs bearing
the light in his hand, and followed by a
man in a coarse smock-frock, who, after
casting a hurried glance round the room,