"
Then we passed a poor red-haired usher sitting on a bench alone. "That's
Mr. Hicks, the Husher, ma'am," says my lord. "We keep him, for he's very
useful to throw stones at, and he keeps the chaps' coats when there's a
fight, or a game at cricket.--Well, Hicks, how's your mother? what's the
row now?" "I believe, my lord," said the usher, very meekly, "there is a
pugilistic encounter somewhere on the premises--the Honorable Mr. Mac--"
"Oh! COME along," said Lord Lollypop, "come along: this way, ma'am! Go
it, ye cripples!" And my lord pulled my dear Jemmy's gown in the kindest
and most familiar way, she trotting on after him, mightily pleased to
be so taken notice of, and I after her. A little boy went running
across the green. "Who is it, Petitoes?" screams my lord. "Turk and the
barber," pipes Petitoes, and runs to the pastry-cook's like mad. "Turk
and the ba--," laughs out my lord, looking at us. "HURRA! THIS way,
ma'am!" And turning round a corner, he opened a door into a court-yard,
where a number of boys were collected, and a great noise of shrill
voices might be heard. "Go it, Turk!" says one. "Go it, barber!" says
another. "PUNCH HITH LIFE OUT!" roars another, whose voice was just
cracked, and his clothes half a yard too short for him!
Fancy our horror when, on the crowd making way, we saw Tug pummelling
away at the Honorable Master MacTurk! My dear Jemmy, who don't
understand such things, pounced upon the two at once, and, with one hand
tearing away Tug, sent him spinning back into the arms of his seconds,
while, with the other, she clawed hold of Master MacTurk's red hair,
and, as soon as she got her second hand free, banged it about his face
and ears like a good one.
Pages:
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612