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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

"Barnaby Rudge: a tale of the Riots of 'eighty"

Jump then!'
Accepting this invitation with a dignity peculiar to himself, the bird
hopped up on his master's shoulder, from that to his extended hand, and
so to the ground. Barnaby unstrapping the basket and putting it down in
a corner with the lid open, Grip's first care was to shut it down with
all possible despatch, and then to stand upon it. Believing, no doubt,
that he had now rendered it utterly impossible, and beyond the power of
mortal man, to shut him up in it any more, he drew a great many corks in
triumph, and uttered a corresponding number of hurrahs.
'Mother!' said Barnaby, laying aside his hat and stick, and returning
to the chair from which he had risen, 'I'll tell you where we have been
to-day, and what we have been doing,--shall I?'
She took his hand in hers, and holding it, nodded the word she could not
speak.
'You mustn't tell,' said Barnaby, holding up his finger, 'for it's a
secret, mind, and only known to me, and Grip, and Hugh. We had the dog
with us, but he's not like Grip, clever as he is, and doesn't guess it
yet, I'll wager.--Why do you look behind me so?'
'Did I?' she answered faintly. 'I didn't know I did. Come nearer me.'
'You are frightened!' said Barnaby, changing colour.


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