His reflections were cut short by old Ocock, who leaned over the fence
to bid his neighbours good-bye.
"No disturbance! Come in, come in!" cried Mahony, with the rather
spurious heartiness one is prone to throw into a final invitation. And
Polly rose from her knees before a clothes-basket which she was filling
with crockery, and bustled away to fetch the cake she had baked for such
an occasion.
"I'll miss yer bright little face, that I will!" said Mr. Ocock, as he
munched with the relish of a Jerry or a Ned. He held his slice of cake
in the hollow of one great palm, conveying with extreme care the pieces
he broke off to his mouth.
"You must come and see us, as soon as ever we're settled."
"Bless you! You'll soon find grander friends than an old chap like me."
"Mr. Ocock! And you with three sons in the law!"
"Besides, mark my words, it'll be your turn next to build," Mahony
removed his pipe to throw in. "We'll have you over with us yet."
"And what a lovely surprise for Miss Amelia when she arrives, to find a
bran'-new house awaiting her."
"Well, that's the end of this little roof-tree," said Mahony.--The
loaded dray had driven off, the children and Ellen perched on top of the
furniture, and he was giving a last look round. "We've spent some very
happy days under it, eh, my dear?"
"Oh, very," said Polly, shaking out her skirts. "But we shall be just as
happy in the new one."
"God grant we may! It's not too much to hope I've now seen all the downs
of my life.
Pages:
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273