‘You put that thing away now, missie. "Do you call neglecting your work, and singing flash songs nothing? Zounds! you incorrigible rascal, many a master would have taken you before a magistrate, and prayed for your solitary confinement in Bridewell for the least of these offences. Sheppard, passing her hands over his face, and gazing at him with a look that made him shudder. “Go down and rescue the rags of my reputation,” she said, smiling. Now there is none. Petrified and speechless, he turned an imploring look at Wild, who was himself filled with astonishment at the pile of rubbish lying before him. But he can't have his eyes always about him, or he'd have been with us this morning at the Mint, eh, Mr. ’ ‘That depends, that does,’ said Trodger guardedly.
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