There's
Mr. Bimby, now, a nice little gent, but doleful like 'is flute, 'e's
always 'ungry 'e is, I'll take my oath--shouldn't wonder if 'e don't
come to it one o' these days. And talking of 'im I must be going, sir,
and thank you kindly, I'm sure."
"Why, then," said Barnabas as she bobbed him another curtsy,
"will you ask Mr. Bimby if he will do me the pleasure to step down
and take supper with me?"
"Which, sir, I will, though Mr. Bimby I won't answer for, 'im being
busy with the pore young man as 'e brought 'ome last night--it's 'im
as the brandy's for. Ye see, sir, though doleful, Mr. Bimby's very
kind 'earted, and 'e's always a-nussing somebody or something--last
time it were a dog with a broke leg--ah, I've knowed 'im bring 'ome
stray cats afore now, many's the time, and once a sparrer. But I'll
tell 'im, sir, and thank you kindly."
And in a while, when Mrs. Snummitt had duly curtsied herself out of
sight, Barnabas sighed, and turned once more to stare away, over
broken roof and crumbling chimney, towards the glory of the sunset.
But now, because he remembered poor little Miss Pell who had died
because she was so friendless and hungry, and Mr.
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