‘Not one of my grandda’aters?’
‘Worser than that.’
‘Worse than that, Joe!’ said the old lady, who had thought this the extreme limit of human atrocity. ‘Who was it, Joe? I insist upon knowing.’
The fat boy looked cautiously round, and having concluded his survey, shouted in the old lady’s ear—
‘Miss Rachael.’
‘What!’ said the old lady, in a shrill tone. ‘Speak louder.’
‘Miss Rachael,’ roared the fat boy.
‘My da’ater!’
The train of nods which the fat boy gave by way of assent, communicated a blanc-mange like motion to his fat cheeks.
‘And she suffered him!’ exclaimed the old lady. A grin stole over the fat boy’s features as he said—