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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

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


That's what's the matter.'
'Oh, very well--if you're in a huff,' cried Miggs, turning away.
'Huff or no huff,' said Mr Tappertit, detaining her by the wrist. 'What
do you mean, Jezebel? What were you going to say? Answer me!'
Notwithstanding this uncivil exhortation, Miggs gladly did as she was
required; and told him how that their young mistress, being alone in
the meadows after dark, had been attacked by three or four tall men, who
would have certainly borne her away and perhaps murdered her, but for
the timely arrival of Joseph Willet, who with his own single hand put
them all to flight, and rescued her; to the lasting admiration of his
fellow-creatures generally, and to the eternal love and gratitude of
Dolly Varden.
'Very good,' said Mr Tappertit, fetching a long breath when the tale was
told, and rubbing his hair up till it stood stiff and straight on end
all over his head. 'His days are numbered.'
'Oh, Simmun!'
'I tell you,' said the 'prentice, 'his days are numbered. Leave me. Get
along with you.'
Miggs departed at his bidding, but less because of his bidding than
because she desired to chuckle in secret. When she had given vent to
her satisfaction, she returned to the parlour; where the locksmith,
stimulated by quietness and Toby, had become talkative, and was disposed
to take a cheerful review of the occurrences of the day.


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