a plum dying of the scarlet fever, entered the room, with a newspaper in his dexter paw. "Great news—great news!" cried the urchin, imitating his vociferous originals in the street; "all about the famous Captain Lovett, as large as life!"
"'Old your blarney, you blattergowl!" said Dummie rebukingly, and seizing the journal.
"Master says as how he must have it to send to Clapham, and can't spare it for more than a 'our!" said the boy as he withdrew.
"I 'members the day," said Dummie, with the zeal of a clansman, "when the Mug took a paper all to itsel', instead of 'iring it by the job like!"
Thereon he opened the paper with a fillip, and gave himself up to the lecture. But the tall stranger, half rising with a start, exclaimed, "Can't you have the manners to be communicative?—do you think nobody cares about Captain Lovett but yourself?"
On this, Dummie turned round on his chair, and, with a "Blow me tight, you're velcome, I'm sure!" began as follows:—(we copy the paper, not the diction of the reader.)
