"I say—there's fowls to-morrow. Not skinny ones. Oh no!"
Presently he called through the keyhole:
"There's a fish to-morrow—just come. Don't eat none of him!" and with this spectral warning vanished again.
By-and-by, he returned to lay the cloth for supper. He entertained them on this occasion by thrusting the lighted candle into his mouth, after the performance of which feat, he went on with his professional duties; brightening every knife as he laid it on the table, by breathing on the blade and afterwards polishing the same on the apron already mentioned. When he had completed his preparations, he grinned at the sisters, and expressed his belief that the approaching meal would be of "rather a spicy sort."
"Will it be long before it's ready, Bailey?" asked Mercy.
"No," said Bailey, "it is cooked. When I come up she was dodging among the tender pieces with a fork, and eating of 'em."
But he had scarcely achieved the utterance of these words, when he received a sudden blow on the head, which sent him staggering against the wall; and Mrs. Todgers, dish in hand, stood indignantly before him.
"Oh you little villain!" said that lady. "Oh you bad, false boy!"
"No worse than yerself," retorted Bailey, guarding his head with his arm. "Ah! Come now! Do that agin, will yer!"
"He's the most dreadful child," said Mrs. Todgers, setting down the dish, "I ever had to deal with. The gentlemen spoil him to that extent, and teach him such things, that I'm afraid nothing but hanging will ever do him any good."