The Gift of the Sailor: The String of Pearls & Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street — page 270: what you’re looking at

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

“You don’t?” “Indeed, Mr. Ben, I do not.” “Then, Miss A. W., you are about the coolest little piece of goods I have meet with for some time. Come—come, easy does it; but haven’t you been telling me all this time about something you have been about, that—that—was rather improper, in a manner of speaking?” It might have been the tone in which Ben pronounced the word improper, or it might have been the sagacious shake of the head which Ben accompanied his words with, or it might have been that Arabella was drawing a conclusion from the whole transaction; but certain it is, that she began to have a glimmering perception that Mr. Ben was making a great mistake. “Oh, heaven!” she said. “What are you saying Mr. Ben? I am speaking of the advice I was foolish enough to give Johanna.” “Advice?” “Yes, that is all. Into what mischief could you have tortured my meaning? I am much mistaken in you, sir.” “What? Then, it isn’t—a-hem! That is to say, you haven’t—dear me, I shall put my foot in it directly. What a fool I am.” “You are, indeed,” said the now indignant Arabella, and a slight flush upon her cheeks showed how deeply wronged she was by the unworthy construction Ben had put upon her innocent words. “Good-bye, Miss A. W.,” added Ben. “Good-bye; I see I am out of your books; but if you fancy I meant any harm, you don’t know me. God bless you. Take care of yourself my dear, and go home. I won’t stay to plague you any longer. Good-bye.” “Stop! Stop!” Ben paused. “T am sure, Mr. Ben, you did not mean to say a single word that could be offensive to a friendless girl in the street.” “Then, then?—Easy does it.” “Let us be friends again then, Mr. Ben, and I will tell you all, and you will then blame me for being so romantic as to give Johanna advice which has induced her to take a step which, although my reason tells me she is now well protected in, my imagination still peoples with horror.” Ben’s eyes opened to an alarming width. “You recollect meeting us in this street, Ben?” “Oh, yes.” “When Johanna was disguised?” “Yes, Miss A. When she had on them, a-hem! You may depend upon it, my dear, there’s no good comes of young girls putting on pairs of thingamies. Don’t you ever do it.” “But, Mr. Ben, hear me.” “Well—well. I was only saying. You stick to the petticoats, my dear. They become you, and you become them, and don’t you be trusting your nice little legs into what-do-you-call-’ems.” “Mr. Ben?” “T’ve done. Easy does it. Now go on and tell us what happened, my dear. Don’t mind me. Go on.” ’ “Then Johanna, in boy’s clothes, is now: ; “Now? Oh, the little vixen. Didn’t I tell her not?” “Ts now filling the situation of errand boy at Sweeney Todd’s, opposite. Can I be otherwise than wretched, most wretched?” “Arrant boy?” “No, not arrant boy. Errand boy.” “At Todd’s—opposite—in—boys—clothes? Oh—oh—just you wait here, and I’Il soon put that to rights. ?’ I—I’1—Only you wait in this door-way, Miss A. W., just a moment or two, and I’ll teach her to go and do such things. ?’ I—I’ 1I——” “No—no Ben. You will ruin all, you will, indeed. I implore you to stay with me. Let me tell you all that has happened, and how Johanna is protected. In the first place, Ben, you must know that Sir Richard Blunt the Magistrate has her under his special protection now, and he says that he has made such arrangements that it is quite impossible she can come to any harm.” “Bu 33 “Nay, listen me out. He says that nothing can now expose her to any danger, but some injudicious interference. I ought not, you see, to have told you, Mr. Ben; but since I have, I only ask of you, for Johanna’s sake, for her life’s sake, to do nothing.” Ben looked aghast. “And—and how long is the little lamb to be left there?” he asked. “Only a few hours I think now, Ben—only a few hours. Where are we now, Mr. Ben?” “Why, this, my dear, is Bell Yard we have strolled into; and that is the famous pie-shop of which they talk so much. They say the woman has made an immense fortune by selling them.” As Ben made a kind of movement towards Mrs Lovett’s window, it was then that Sir Richard Blunt, who had followed him and Arabella Wilmot from Fleet Street, and who had, in fact, overheard some portion of their conversation, stepped up in the manner that Mrs Lovett had remarked from within the shop. eo ee @o CORniclooo S CO)