Tope's was
somewhere very near it, and that, like the children in the game of
hot boiled beans and very good butter, he was warm in his search
when he saw the Tower, and cold when he didn't see it.
He was getting very cold indeed when he came upon a fragment of
burial-ground in which an unhappy sheep was grazing. Unhappy,
because a hideous small boy was stoning it through the railings,
and had already lamed it in one leg, and was much excited by the
benevolent sportsmanlike purpose of breaking its other three legs,
and bringing it down.
''It 'im agin!' cried the boy, as the poor creature leaped; 'and
made a dint in his wool.'
'Let him be!' said Mr. Datchery. 'Don't you see you have lamed
him?'
'Yer lie,' returned the sportsman. ''E went and lamed isself. I
see 'im do it, and I giv' 'im a shy as a Widdy-warning to 'im not
to go a-bruisin' 'is master's mutton any more.'
'Come here.'
'I won't; I'll come when yer can ketch me.'
'Stay there then, and show me which is Mr. Tope's.'
'Ow can I stay here and show you which is Topeseses, when Topeseses
is t'other side the Kinfreederal, and over the crossings, and round
ever so many comers? Stoo-pid! Ya-a-ah!'
'Show me where it is, and I'll give you something.'
'Come on, then.'
This brisk dialogue concluded, the boy led the way, and by-and-by
stopped at some distance from an arched passage, pointing.
'Lookie yonder. You see that there winder and door?'
'That's Tope's?'
'Yer lie; it ain't.
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