"Oh! sure and certain hope—yes, the resurrection, hey?"
"Yes, sir, there's only one thing troubles me—them poor little children. I wouldn't care how soon I went if they was able to do for themselves."
"They do that very early in London—girls especially; and you're giving them such an excellent training—Sunday school—eh—and Church Catechism, I see. The righteous are never forsaken, my excellent mother used to tell me; and if the Catechism does not make little Miss what's-her-name righteous, I'm afraid the rosy little rogue has a spice of the devil in her."
"God forbid, sir."
"Amen, of course. I'm sure they're all right—I hope they are—for I'll whip 'em both; I give you fair warning, on my honour, I will, if they give me the least trouble."
"I'll be very careful, sir, and keep them out of the way," said the alarmed Sarah Rumble.
"Oh! I don't care about that; let 'em run about, as long as they're good; I've no objection in life to children—quite the contrary—plump little rogues—I like 'em—only, egad! if they're naughty, I'll turn 'em up, mind."
Miss Rumble looked at him with as much alarm as if the threat had been to herself.
He was grinning at her in return, and nodded once or twice sharply.
"Yes, ma'am, lollypops and sugar-candy when they're good; but, egad! when they're naughty, ma'am, you'll hear 'em squalling."