Читать книгу The Manchester Man онлайн

108 страница из 137

“Ah! and then blubbered like a cry-a-babby because he had killed it! What do you think of that, Dame Clowes?”

“Eh! I think he was a brave little chap to face a sarpent, but I think a fine sight more of his blubbering, as you call it,” said she, taking a tin canister from a shelf, and putting it on the counter with an emphatic bounce.

“Ah! I thought I could match the young fool with an old one,” said he derisively, to hide his own satisfaction, as he took his short legs to the door.

But Mrs. Clowes called him back, put a large paper parcel in his hand, and said,

“Here, Jotty, see you give these sweetmeats to your cry-a-babby, and tell him an old woman says there’s no harm in fighting in self-defence with any kind of a snake, or for his own good name, or to protect the helpless; but, if he fights just to show off his own bravery, he’s a coward. And you tell him from me never to be ashamed of tears he has shed in repentance for injury he may have done to any living thing. Now see you tell him, parson; and maybe my preachment may be worth more to him than my cakes and toffy, or your sermons.” And she nodded her head till her cap-border flapped like a bird’s wings.