as they looked at him, suddenly thrust into his capacious mouth two fingers of each hand, and with the assistance of that machinery whistled, with astonishing shrillness, to some pigeons at a considerable elevation in the air.
"Mrs. Richards’s eldest, Miss!" said Susan, "and the worrit of Mrs Richards’s life!"
As Polly had been to tell Florence of the resuscitated prospects of her son and heir, Florence was prepared for the meeting: so, a favourable moment presenting itself, they both hastened across, without any further contemplation of Mrs. Richards’s bane. That sporting character, unconscious of their approach, again whistled with his utmost might, and then yelled in a rapture of excitement, "Strays! Whoo-oop! Strays!" which identification had such an effect upon the conscience-stricken pigeons, that instead of going direct to some town in the North of England, as appeared to have been their original intention, they began to wheel and falter; whereupon Mrs Richards’s first born pierced them with another whistle, and again yelled, in a voice that rose above the turmoil of the street, "Strays! Whoo-oop! Strays!"
From this transport, he was abruptly recalled to terrestrial objects, by a poke from Miss Nipper, which sent him into the shop.
"Is this the way you show your penitence, when Mrs. Richards has been fretting for you months and months?" said Susan, following the poke. "Where’s Mr. Gills?"
Rob, who smoothed his first rebellious glance at Miss Nipper when he saw Florence following, put his knuckles to his hair, in honour of the latter, and said to the former, that Mr. Gills was out.
"Fetch him home," said Miss Nipper, with authority, "and say that my young lady’s here."
"I don’t know where he’s gone," said Rob.
"Is that your penitence?" cried Susan, with stinging sharpness.
"Why, how can I go and fetch him when I don’t know where to go?" whimpered the baited Rob. "How can you be so unreasonable?"
"Did Mr. Gills say when he should be home?" asked Florence.
"Yes, Miss," replied Rob, with another application of his knuckles to his hair. "He said he should be home early in the afternoon; in about a couple of hours from now, Miss."
"Is he very anxious about his nephew?" inquired Susan.
"Yes, Miss," returned Rob, preferring to address himself to Florence and slighting Nipper; "I should say he was, very much so. He ain’t indoors, Miss, not a quarter of an hour together. He can’t settle in one place five minutes. He goes about, like a—just like a stray," said Rob, stooping to get a glimpse of the pigeons through the window, and checking himself, with his fingers half-way to his mouth, on the verge of another whistle.
"Do you know a friend of Mr. Gills, called Captain Cuttle?" inquired Florence, after a moment’s reflection.
"Him with a hook, Miss?" rejoined Rob, with an illustrative twist of his left hand. "Yes, Miss. He was here the day before yesterday."
"Has he not been here since?" asked Susan.
"No, Miss," returned Rob, still addressing his reply to Florence.
