“All right, master,” said the boy, with a sniff.
Dick walked up and down the room in an excited way, with the bank-note in his left hand, while a bluebottle fly came in at the window and buzzed round the room, now up, now down, its loud hum rising and falling, as, apparently taken off from his previous thoughts, the man followed it, and as it settled he twice made ineffectual efforts to catch it.
“Buzz—uzz—buzz! Um—um—um!” went the fly; while Jack stood with open mouth and an old slipper, ready to hit at the insect if it came his way; Mrs Shingle and Jessie glancing at one another, and then following Dick in a troubled fashion with their eyes, as he still pursued the great bluebottle.
“You’ve a fine time of it, you have,” he said, “you great, lazy wind-flitter!”
“Buzz—buzz!—um—um—um!” went the fly, round and round.
“Ah,” said Dick, “some men hit bright ideas, and make fortunes, but I don’t; and it seems (ah! I nearly had you that time)—seems, mother, as if we go on as we are that we may toil on (well, he is a sharp one, but I’ll have him yet)—toil on till we get to the workhouse!”
“Oh, don’t, please, master—don’t go there,” cried the boy. “Now, master—quick, quick. He’s settled on the edge of the last shelf.”
“I see him,” said Dick, going cautiously up, with hand ready to catch the fly.
But, before he reached it, away it went round and round the room again.
“Buzz—uzz!—um—um—um!”