'Where is your friend?'
Mr Dennis looked round as in expectation of beholding him asleep upon
his bed of straw; then remembering he had seen him go out, replied:
'I can't say where he is, Muster Gashford, I expected him back afore
now. I hope it isn't time that we was busy, Muster Gashford?'
'Nay,' said the secretary, 'who should know that as well as you? How
can I tell you, Dennis? You are perfect master of your own actions, you
know, and accountable to nobody--except sometimes to the law, eh?'
Dennis, who was very much baffled by the cool matter-of-course manner of
this reply, recovered his self-possession on his professional pursuits
being referred to, and pointing towards Barnaby, shook his head and
frowned.
'Hush!' cried Barnaby.
'Ah! Do hush about that, Muster Gashford,' said the hangman in a low
voice, 'pop'lar prejudices--you always forget--well, Barnaby, my lad,
what's the matter?'
'I hear him coming,' he answered: 'Hark! Do you mark that? That's his
foot! Bless you, I know his step, and his dog's too. Tramp, tramp,
pit-pat, on they come together, and, ha ha ha!--and here they are!' he
cried, joyfully welcoming Hugh with both hands, and then patting him
fondly on the back, as if instead of being the rough companion he was,
he had been one of the most prepossessing of men.
Pages:
680
681
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704