Part 35 (1/2)
”Ah!” said Pickles, ”now ye're comin' to the p'int o' bein' sensible, young 'oman. I thought at first you could only drop hangelic speeches, an' that you 'ailed from the hangel spheres; but now I see ye're a gel--oh, quite the very purtiest I hiver laid heyes on. Now, as I've spoke my true mind, I'll hanswer yer questions in a discreet an' pious manner. My name is Pickles--Pickles, at yer sarvice.”
”I never heered such a name in all my life,” said Connie.
”Wery like not. I were christened by the proper name o' James; but no James as ever walked 'ud hold me--it didn't fit no w'y; an' Pickles did.
So Pickles I am, an' Pickles I'll be to the end o' the chapter. Now, as to wot I wants--w'y; I wants a talk with that mealy-faced chap wot looks as if I'd heat him up alive.”
”No, I don't,” said Giles. ”I were only thinking as you 'ad the wery reddest 'air I iver see'd in my life.”
”Personal remarks air considered ill-mannered, young man. And let me tell yer as my hair's my special glory. But now to business. You can't know, I guess, wot I wants yer for.”
”No, I can't,” said Giles.
”That's rum; and I to tike the trouble not only to wisit yer own most respectable mansion, but to foller yer 'ere in the true sperrit of kindness.”
”Ye're wery good; but I can't guess wot ye're up to,” answered Giles.
”Dear, dear! the silliness o' folks! Now, w'en a stranger seeks yer hout, isn't it safe to s'pose as he brings news?”
”Wull, yes.”
”Next clue--shall I 'elp yer a bit? You 'asn't, so to speak, lost something lately--thimble, or a pair of scissors, or something o' that sort?”
”Oh, it's Sue! It's my darling Sue;” exclaimed Giles, a light breaking all over his face. ”'As yer brought news of Sue, boy?”
”Be Sue a thimble, scissors, or a gel?”
”Oh! a gel, in course--my own dear, dear, only sister.”
”A little, fat, podgy kind o' woman-gel, wid a fine crop o' freckles and sandy hair?”
”Yes, yes; that's she. I have bin waiting fur her hall night. Where is she? Please, please, Pickles, where is she?”
”Well, can't yer guess? Where 'ud she be likely ter be? She worn't a wandering sort o' gel, as neglected her home duties, wor she?”
”Oh no! she never stayed out in hall her life afore.”
”She worn't, so to speak, a gel as wor given to pilfer, and might be tuk to cool herself in the lock-up.”
”Never--never! Sue 'ud sooner die than take wot worn't her own; and I wish I wor strong enough to punch yer head fur thinkin' sech a thing,”
said Giles, his face now crimson with indignation.
”Well, softly, softly, young un; I didn't say as she _did_ pilfer. I think that 'ere podgy gel as honest as the day. But now, can't yer guess where she his?”
”Oh yes! I can guess wery well,” answered Giles, his face softening down. ”I guessed long ago--didn't I, Connie?”
”Well, now, wot hever did yer guess?” asked Pickles, in some amazement.
”Oh! there wor but one thing to guess. There were one dream as Sue and I were halways dreaming, and she have gone off widout me at last, to see wot it wor like. She'll be back hany moment, arter she have seen and found hout hall she could. Sue have gone to the country, Pickles.”