talking to himself than answering Noah. "I think I know what it must be to die of that!"
"Tol de rol lol lol, right fol lairy, Work'us," said Noah, as a tear rolled down Oliver's cheek. "What's set you a-snivelling now?"
"Not you," replied Oliver, hastily brushing the tear away. "Don't think it."
"Oh, not me, eh?" sneered Noah.
"No, not you," replied Oliver, sharply.
"There; that's enough. Don't say anything more to me about her; you'd better not!"
"Better not!" exclaimed Noah. "Well! better not! Work'us, don't be impudent. Your mother, too! She was a nice 'un, she was. Oh, Lor!" And here Noah nodded his head expressively, and curled up as much of his small red nose as muscular action could collect together for the occasion.
"Yer know, Work'us," continued Noah, emboldened by Oliver's silence, and speaking in a jeering tone of affected pity—of all tones the most annoying—"Yer know, Work'us, it carn't be helped now, and of course yer couldn't help it then, and I'm very sorry for it, and I'm sure
