'They're no harm,' said Short.'Depend upon that.I tell you what--it's plain that the old man an't in his right mind--'
'If you haven't got anything newer than that to say,' growled Mr Codlin, glancing at the clock, 'you'd better let us fix our minds upon the supper, and not disturb us.'
'Here me out, won't you?' retorted his friend.'It's very plain to me, besides, that they're not used to this way of life.Don't tell me that that handsome child has been in the habit of prowling about as she's done these last two or three days.I know better.'
'Well, who DOES tell you she has?' growled Mr Codlin, again glancing at the clock and from it to the cauldron, 'can't you think of anything more suitable to present circumstances than saying things and then contradicting 'em?'
'I wish somebody would give you your supper,' returned Short, 'for there'll be no peace till you've got it.Have you seen how anxious the old man is to get on--always wanting to be furder away--furder away.Have you seen that?'
'Ah! what then?' muttered Thomas Codlin.
'This, then,' said Short.'He has given his friends the slip.Mind what I say--he has given his friends the slip, and persuaded this delicate young creetur all along of her fondness for him to be his guide and travelling companion--where to, he knows no more than the man in the moon.Now I'm not a going to stand that.'
'YOU'RE not a going to stand that!' cried Mr Codlin, glancing at the clock again and pulling his hair with both hands in a kind of frenzy, but whether occasioned by his companion's observation or the tardy pace of Time, it was difficult to determine.'Here's a world to live in!'
'I,' repeated Short emphatically and slowly, 'am not a-going to stand it.I am not a-going to see this fair young child a falling into bad hands, and getting among people that she's no more fit for, than they are to get among angels as their ordinary chums.
Therefore when they dewelope an intention of parting company from us, I shall take measures for detaining of 'em, and restoring 'em to their friends, who I dare say have had their disconsolation pasted up on every wall in London by this time.'
'Short,' said Mr Codlin, who with his head upon his hands, and his elbows on his knees, had been shaking himself impatiently from side to side up to this point and occasionally stamping on the ground, but who now looked up with eager eyes; 'it's possible that there may be uncommon good sense in what you've said.If there is, and there should be a reward, Short, remember that we're partners in everything!'
His companion had only time to nod a brief assent to this position, for the child awoke at the instant.They had drawn close together during the previous whispering, and now hastily separated and were rather awkwardly endeavouring to exchange some casual remarks in their usual tone, when strange footsteps were heard without, and fresh company entered.
These were no other than four very dismal dogs, who came pattering in one after the other, headed by an old bandy dog of particularly mournful aspect, who, stopping when the last of his followers had got as far as the door, erected himself upon his hind legs and looked round at his companions, who immediately stood upon their hind legs, in a grave and melancholy row.Nor was this the only remarkable circumstance about these dogs, for each of them wore a kind of little coat of some gaudy colour trimmed with tarnished spangles, and one of them had a cap upon his head, tied very carefully under his chin, which had fallen down upon his nose and completely obscured one eye; add to this, that the gaudy coats were all wet through and discoloured with rain, and that the wearers were splashed and dirty, and some idea may be formed of the unusual appearance of these new visitors to the Jolly Sandboys.
Neither Short nor the landlord nor Thomas Codlin, however, was in the least surprised, merely remarking that these were Jerry's dogs and that Jerry could not be far behind.So there the dogs stood, patiently winking and gaping and looking extremely hard at the boiling pot, until Jerry himself appeared, when they all dropped down at once and walked about the room in their natural manner.
This posture it must be confessed did not much improve their appearance, as their own personal tails and their coat tails--both capital things in their way--did not agree together.
Jerry, the manager of these dancing dogs, was a tall black-whiskered man in a velveteen coat, who seemed well known to the landlord and his guests and accosted them with great cordiality.
Disencumbering himself of a barrel organ which he placed upon a chair, and retaining in his hand a small whip wherewith to awe his company of comedians, he came up to the fire to dry himself, and entered into conversation.