Why don't you speak out what you mean? I'll mischief 'im, the old
humbug. Old rascal."
"Never mind, John," said his wife, laying her hand upon his arm. "Here
you are safe and sound, and as for old Mr. Silver, there's a lot o'
people don't believe in him."
"Ah! they don't want to," said Mrs. Gimpson, obstinately. "But don't
forget that he foretold my cough last winter."
"Well, look 'ere," said Mr. Boxer, twisting his short, blunt nose into as
near an imitation of a sneer as he could manage, "I've told you my story
and I've got witnesses to prove it. You can write to the master of the
Marston Towers if you like, and other people besides. Very well, then;
let's go and see your precious old fortune-teller. You needn't say who I
am; say I'm a friend, and tell 'im never to mind about making mischief,
but to say right out where I am and what I've been doing all this time.
I have my 'opes it'll cure you of your superstitiousness."
[Illustration: "'Well, look 'ere,' said Mr. Boxer, 'I've told you my
story and I've got witnesses to prove it.'"]
"We'll go round after we've shut up, mother," said Mrs.
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