The Gift of the Sailor: The String of Pearls & Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street — page 254: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

CHAPTER LXXIII. RETURNS TO JOHANNA. We left Johanna in rather an awkward situation. The two graziers® were in Todd’s shop, and she—at the pronunciation of the word “pearl,” which had too forcibly at the moment reminded her of the String of Pearls, which no doubt had been fatal to Mark Ingestrie— had dropped the soap-dish, and covered her face with her hands. “What is this?” cried Todd. “What, sir?” “What is that, I say? What do you mean by that, you stupid hound? If I only » He advanced in a threatening attitude with a razor in his hand; but Johanna quickly saw what a fault she had committed, and felt that, if she were to hope to do any good by her visit to Todd’s shop, she must leave all such manifestations of feelings outside the threshold. “T have broken it,” she said. “To be sure you have; but - “And then, you see, sir, 1 was overcome at the moment by the thought that as this was my first day here, how stupid you would think me.” “Stupid, indeed.” “Poor little chap,” said one of the graziers. “Let him off this once, Mr. Barber—he seems a delicate little lad.” Todd smiled. Yes, Todd admirably got up a smile, or a something that looked like a smile. It was a contortion of feature which did duty for a piece of amiability upon his face; and, in a voice that he no doubt fully intended should be dulcet and delightful, he spoke— “I’m quite a fool to my feelings and to my good nature,” he said. “Lord bless you, gentlemen, I could not hurt a fly—not I. I used at school to be called Affectionate Todd.” “In joke?” said one of the graziers. “No, gentlemen, no; in earnest.” “You don’t say so! Well, my boy, you see no harm will come to you, as your master forgives you about the soap-dish, and we are in no sort of hurry.” “Well,” said Todd, as he bustled about for another article in which to mix the lather. “Well, do you know, sir, I’m so glad to hear that you are in no hurry.” “Indeed?” “Yes, sir; because, if you are strangers in London, both of you, it will give you an opportunity of seeing some of the curiosities, which will do for you to talk of when you get home, you know.” “Why, that would take too much time.” “Not at all, sir. Now, for example—Charley, my dear, whip up that lather—there’s the church of St. Dunstan’s, which, although I say it—Now, Charley, look sharp—is one of the greatest of London curiosities. The figures at the clock I allude to more particularly. I think you said the whiskers were to be left just as they are, sir?” “Yes.” “Well then, gentlemen, if you have never seen the figures in the front of old St. Dunstan’s strike the chimes, it’s one of those things that it’s quite a pity to leave London without watching narrowly. They may talk of the Tower, sir, or of the wild beasts at Exeter Change; but give me for a sight where there is real ingenuity, the figures striking the chimes at old St. Dunstan’s.” “Indeed?” “Yes. Let me see. Ah, it’s just a half hour nearly now, and your friend can go, although you are being shaved, and then by the time you are comfortably finished off, the next quarter will be getting on. Charley?” “Yes, sir.” “Put on your cap, and go with that gentleman to St. Dunstan’s. You must cross over the way, and then you will soon see the old church and the two figures as large as life, and five times as natural.” Johanna took up the cap she had worn in her disguise, and stood by the door. “Why don’t you go, Bill?” said the grazier who was being shaved. “Why, the fact is,” said the other, “I would not give a pin’s head to see it without you. Do you know, Mr. Barber, he makes such comical remarks at anything, that it’s worth one half the fun to hear him? Oh, no, I can’t go without him.” “Very good,” said Todd, “then I’ll finish him off, and you shall both go together in a few moments, though I am afraid you will miss this time of the chimes striking.” There was now a silence of a few moments’ duration in the shop; but nothing in the shape of rage or disappointment was visible in the manner of Todd, although both of those passions were struggling at his heart. “Now, sir,” he said at length, and with a whisk he took the cloth from under the grazier’s chair. “That will do; I thank you, sir. Towel and plenty of water in that corner, sir.” CORniclooo S CO)