sarvice, Meester Pepper, and myself too,—and you to boot, for aught that I know, Meester Pepper."
"Humph!" said Ned; "humph! what do you mean? I do, it is true, know where Paul is; but you must tell me first, why you wish to know, otherwise you may ask your Grandfather for me."
A long, sharp, wistful survey did Mr. Dummie Dunnaker cast around him before he rejoined. All seemed safe and convenient for confidential communication. The supine features of Mrs. Lobkins were hushed in a drowsy stupor: even the grey cat that lay by the fire, was curled in the embrace of Morpheus. Nevertheless, it was in a close whisper that Dummie spoke.
"I dares be bound, Meester Pepper, that you members vell ven Harry Cook, the great Highvayman,—poor fellow! he's gone vhere ve must all go,—brought you, then quite a gossoon,[1] for the
- ↑ The reader has probably observed the use made by Dummie and Mrs. Lobkins of Irish phraseology or pronunciation. This is a remarkable trait in the dialect of the lowest orders in London, owing, we suppose, to their constant association with emigrants from "the first flower of the earth." Perhaps it is a modish affectation among the gentry of St. Giles's, just as we eke out our mother-tongue with French at Mayfair.
