“Oh, murdher, it’s the first time I was within the walls of a prison, and I hope it ’ill be the last. Maybe I don’t know how to behave mysel’, and am wrong entirely. Och, sure, now, I’ve been as well brought up, and that aint saying much, as ony av ye.”
After this outbreak the Irishwoman was a little more subdued, and conversed with her son in a lower tone.
“I’m sorry to see you in this pickle,” said Bill Rawton to Peace. “It’s a precious bad business.”
“It is,” returned our hero, “but I swear most solemnly that I never intended to do the bobby any harm. I was driven to it—in fact it appears to me to be almost like a dream. How is Sue?”
“She is pretty well,” returned his wife.
“Hark you,” said Peace, in a whisper; “both you and Bill must keep a sharp look-out—watch over her Do you understand?”
Both his visitors nodded.
“Good! so much the better, there is good raason for this.”
“She’s all right” observed Bill. “Don’t trouble yourself about that; she’s right enough.”
His wife at this time had decamped from the Evilina-road, but neither she nor Bill made him acquainted with this circumstance.