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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

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


'Come in,' he said, beckoning to old John, who remained bowing at the
door. 'Not you, friend,' he added hastily to Hugh, who entered also.
'Willet, why do you bring that fellow here?'
'Why, sir,' returned John, elevating his eyebrows, and lowering his
voice to the tone in which the question had been asked him, 'he's a good
guard, you see.'
'Don't be too sure of that,' said Mr Haredale, looking towards him as he
spoke. 'I doubt it. He has an evil eye.'
'There's no imagination in his eye,' returned Mr Willet, glancing over
his shoulder at the organ in question, 'certainly.'
'There is no good there, be assured,' said Mr Haredale. 'Wait in that
little room, friend, and close the door between us.'
Hugh shrugged his shoulders, and with a disdainful look, which showed,
either that he had overheard, or that he guessed the purport of their
whispering, did as he was told. When he was shut out, Mr Haredale turned
to John, and bade him go on with what he had to say, but not to speak
too loud, for there were quick ears yonder.
Thus cautioned, Mr Willet, in an oily whisper, recited all that he
had heard and said that night; laying particular stress upon his own
sagacity, upon his great regard for the family, and upon his solicitude
for their peace of mind and happiness.


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