When Harris at the commencement of his tale started and changed color,
Pickles dropped a piece of bread, and stayed under the table looking for
it until the man had quite recovered his composure. When his short story
had come to an end he paused; then he said, still without bestowing more
than the swiftest side-glance on Harris, "The poor fat gel were tuk orf
to the lock-hup. But 'tis borne bin on me, master--'tis borne him on me,
and I can't get no rest day nor night--as that yer gel were hinnercent.
I believe as she never tuk the locket, and I think that ef ye're as
kind-hearted as yer looks yer'll help me ter find that other guilty
party."
Harris rose to his feet.
"Don't be a fool, lad," he said angrily. "I have no time ter give ter
sech nonsense. I'm soory fur the gel, but ef she had the locket, of
course she tuk the locket. There! I can waste no time. I'll pay fur my
hown coffee. Good-morning."
"Good-morning, master, and thank yer. I'm glad as ye're sorry fur the
gel; she have a lame brother as must miss her, and her case 'ull go
heavy, I fear. It seems as it might be a good work ter find the guilty
party. I think as it wor the man as went with her inter the shop. I mean
ter attend the trial, and I'll mention, ef permitted, my suspicions. But
I won't keep yer longer. Sorry again as yer won't oblige me, I'll go
home now and consult my mother.
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