"Sir--sir?" stammered Mr. Shrig, "oh, Pal, d'ye mean--?"
"That I found it, yes," said Barnabas, "and here it is."
Mr. Shrig took his little book, opened it, closed it, thrust it into
his pocket, and took it out again.
"Sir," said he, catching Barnabas by the hand, "this here little
book is more to me nor gold or rubies. Sir, you are my pal,--and
consequent the Corp's also, and this 'ere chaffing-crib is allus
open to you. And if ever you want a man at your back--I'm your man,
and v'en not me--there's my pal Dick, ain't there, Di--"
Mr. Shrig stopped suddenly and stood with his head to one side as
one that listens. And thus, upon the stillness came the sound of one
who strode along the narrow passage-way outside, whistling as he went.
"'Sally in our Alley,' I think?" said Mr. Shrig.
"Yes," said Barnabas, wondering.
"V'ich means as I'm vanted, ah!--and vanted precious qvick too,"
saying which, Mr. Shrig caught up his "castor," seized the nobbly
stick, crossed to the door, and came back again.
"Dick," said he, "I'll get you to look after my little reader for me,
--I ain't a-going to risk losing it again.
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