"And why should not Ranting Rob tache the boy Latin and vartue?"
"'Cause Ranting Rob, poor fellow, was lagged for doing a panny!"[1] answered the dame, despondently.
There was a long silence: it was broken by Mr. Dummie: slapping his thigh with the gesticulatory vehemence of an Ugo Foscolo, that gentleman exclaimed—
"I'as it—I'as thought of a tutor for leetle Paul!"
"Who's that? you quite frightens me, you 'as no marcy on my narves," said the dame fretfully.
"Vy, it be the gemman vot writes," said Dummie, putting his finger to his nose,—"the gemman vot payed you so flashly!"
"What! the Scotch gemman!"
"The werry same!" returned Dummie.
The dame turned in her chair, and refilled her pipe. It was evident from her manner that Mr. Dunnaker's suggestion had made an impression on her. But she recognized two doubts as to its feasibility,—one, whether the gentleman proposed would be adequate to the task,—the other, whether he would be willing to undertake it.
- ↑ Transported for burglary.
