"Whey's them close, anyway?"
"I don't know nuthun 'bout yer clothes. Most men as ain't marrd looks after they own clothes."
"Is that you Ben?" asked the more refined voice of Tryphena, in a tone of surprise.
"Yaas, Trypheeny, that's jest who it is. Saay, ken you tayl me what's come o' my close?"
"They are here, Ben, close to the table;" whereupon all the company glanced at Mr. Rigby, and choked.
"Cayn't you take 'em off what they're on, and saynd one of the boys in with 'em, Trypheeny?"
The cook coloured up, and laughter could no longer be restrained. The constable laughed, and the contagion spread to Matilda and her boy.
"Dod rot it?" cried Mr. Toner, indignantly; "what are you fools and eejuts a screechin' and yellin' at? Gimme my close, or, s'haylp me, I'll come right out and bust some low down loafer's thinkin' mill."
"Now, be quiet, Ben," answered Tryphena, "and I will send Rufus in with your breakfast. You shall have your clothes when they are ready."
So, Rufus took in a plentiful breakfast to his friend Toner, who sat up in the big bed to enjoy it. "I'm powerful sorry for you, Ben," remarked the Baby. "You don't think Serlizer could ha' come in and taken your clothes out into the rain, do you?"