“Oh! I dare say you’re right,” said Clemency. “I don’t pretend to none. I don’t want any.”
Benjamin took his pipe from his lips, and laughed till the tears ran down his face. “What a natural you are, Clemmy!” he said, shaking his head, with an infinite relish of the joke, and wiping his eyes. Clemency, without the smallest inclination to dispute it, did the like, and laughed as heartily as he.
“But I can’t help liking you,” said Mr. Britain; “you’re a regular good creature in your way; so shake hands, Clem. Whatever happens, I’ll always take notice of you, and be a friend to you.”
“Will you?” returned Clemency. “Well! that’s very good of you.”
“Yes, yes,” said Mr. Britain, giving her his pipe to knock the ashes out of; “I’ll stand by you. Hark! That’s a curious noise!”
“Noise!” repeated Clemency.
“A footstep outside. Somebody dropping from the wall, it sounded like,” said Britain. “Are they all abed up-stairs?”
“Yes, all abed by this time,” she replied.
“Didn’t you hear anything?”
“No.”