“Oh here’s a dreadful go for a cove that’s got a master wide awake in the neighbourhood!” exclaimed the wretched Grinder. “To be howled over like this here!”
“Won’t you come and see me, Robby?” cried Mrs Brown. “Oho, won’t you ever come and see me?”
“Yes, I tell you! Yes, I will!” returned the Grinder.
“That’s my own Rob! That’s my lovey!” said Mrs Brown, drying the tears upon her shrivelled face, and giving him a tender squeeze. “At the old place, Rob?”
“Yes,” replied the Grinder.
“Soon, Robby dear?” cried Mrs Brown; “and often?”
“Yes. Yes. Yes,” replied Rob. “I will indeed, upon my soul and body.”
“And then,” said Mrs Brown, with her arms uplifted towards the sky, and her head thrown back and shaking, “if he’s true to his word, I’ll never come a-near him though I know where he is, and never breathe a syllable about him! Never!”
This ejaculation seemed a drop of comfort to the miserable Grinder, who shook Mrs Brown by the hand upon it, and implored her with tears in his eyes, to leave a cove and not destroy his prospects. Mrs Brown, with another fond embrace, assented; but in the act of following her daughter, turned back, with her finger stealthily raised, and asked in a hoarse whisper for some money.
“A shilling, dear!” she said, with her eager avaricious face, “or sixpence! For old acquaintance sake. I’m so poor. And my handsome gal”—looking over her shoulder—“she’s my gal, Rob—half starves me.”