Читать книгу The Manchester Man онлайн

133 страница из 137

Then he helped his unsteady steps until they were fairly out of Dr. Smith’s sight and hearing; but they did not suffer him to reach his son’s house before they showed their true colours. Loosing his hold, Laurence snatched at the rod, and, darting with it towards the College gate, cried out in high glee, “I’ve been fishing; look at the fine snig (eel) I’ve caught!” And, as he capered about, he dragged the poor old cripple hither and thither backwards by his pigtail, to which hook and line were attached.

Old Brookes screamed in impotent rage and pain; the boys laughed and shouted the louder. The one with his basket set it on his head, and paraded about, crying, “Who’ll buy my snigs? Fine fresh snigs!” with the nasal drawl of a genuine fish-seller.

Once or twice the old man fell down, uttering awful threats and imprecations; but Laurence only laughed the more, and jerked him up again with a smart twitch of the line, which was a strong one; and the other three or four young ruffians put up their shoulders, and limped about singing—