Master Humphrey's clock (1843) (14773253892)

Identifier: masterhumphreysc03dickrich (find matches)
Title: Master Humphrey's clock
Year: 1843 (1840s)
Authors: Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870 Cattermole, George, 1800-1868 Browne, Hablot Knight, 1815-1882 Smith, William
Subjects: Gordon Riots, 1780 -- Fiction
Publisher: London, Chapman and Hall
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN



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force, and stared into thechaise like an ogre into his larder. Ha ha ha ! and did you scratch, and pinch, and struggle, pretty mistress ?he cried, as he grasped a little hand that sought in vain to free itself from hisgripe : you, so bright-eyed, and cherry-lipped, and daintily made ? But I loveyou better for it, mistress. Ay, I do. You should stab me and welcome, sothat it pleased you, and you had to cure me afterwards. I love to see youproud and scornful. It makes you handsomer than ever ; and who so hand-some as you at any time, my pretty one ! Come r said Mr. Tappertit, who had waited during this speech withconsiderable impatience. Theres enough of that. Come down. The little hand seconded this admonition by thrusting Hughs great headaway with all its force, and drawing up the blind, amidst his noisy laughter,and vows that he must have another look, for the last glimpse of that sweetface had provoked him past all bearing. However, as the suppressed impa- ......\) /,/-■ V-., . -^
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tienco of the party now broke out into open murmurs, he abandoned thisdesign, and taking his seat upon the bar, contented himself with tapping atthe front windows of the carriage, and trying to steal a glance inside; Mr.Tappertit, mounting the steps and hanging on by the door, issued his directions 280 MASTER HUMPHREYS CLOCK. to the driver with a commanding voice and attitude ; the rest got up behind,or ran by the side of the carriage, as they could ; some, in imitation of Hugh,endeavoured to see the face he had praised so highly, and were reminded oftheir impertinence by hints from the cudgel of Mr. Tappertit. Thus theypursued their journey by circuitous and winding roads; preserving, exceptwhen they halted to take breath, or to quarrel about the best way of reachingLondon, pretty good order and tolerable silence. In the mean time, Dolly—beautiful, bewitching, captivating little Dolly—her hair dishevelled, her dress torn, her dark eyelashes wet with tears, herbosom heaving—her