Charles Green R.I. (1840–1898), was a British watercolourist and illustrator of genre and historical subjects. He is now best remembered for images illustrating, or inspired by, the work of Charles Dickens.
THE DOOR BEING OPENED, THE CHILD ADDRESSED HIM AS HER GRANDFATHER.
The old man sat himself down in a chair, and, with folded hands, looked sometimes at his grandson and sometimes at his strange con^panion.
When he did sit down, he tucked up his sleeves and squared his elbows and put his face close to the copy-book.
Daniel Quilp sat himself down in the wherry to cross to the opposite shore.
' I'll beat you to a pulp, you dogs,
He soon cast his eyes upon a chair, into which he skipped with uncommon agility, and, perching himself on- the back with his feet upon the seat, was thus enabled to look on.
Is it good, Brass, is it nice, is it fragrant ?
Not to be behindhand in the bustle, Mr. Quilp went to work with surprising vigour.
Nelly, kneeling down beside the box, was soon busily engaged in her task.
" Now, gentlemen," said Jerry, looking at them attentively. " The dog whose name's called, eats"
There was but one lady who seemed to understand the child, and she was one who sat alone in a handsome carriage.
A small white-headed boy with a sunburnt face appeared at the door while he was speaking, and, stopping there to make a rustic bow, came in.
She handed down to them the tea-tray, the bread and butter, the knuckle of ham, and, in short, everything of which she had partaken herse.
"That, Ladies and Gentlemen," said Mrs. Jarley, "is Jasper Packlemerton of atrocious memory."
You 're the wax-work child, are you not?
IN SOME OF THESE FLOURISHES IT WENT CLOSE TO MISS SALLY'S HEAD.
"OH, PLEASE," SAID A LITTLE VOICE VERY LOW DOWN IN THE DOURWAY,
THE LODGINGS ? " " WILL YOU COME AND SHOW THE LODGINGS ? "
AT LENGTH EVERYTHING WAS READY, AND THEY WENT OFF.
THE OLD MAN STOOD HELPLESSLY AMONG THEM FOR A LITTLE TIME.
A MAN OF VERY UNCOUTH AND ROUGH APPEARANCE WAS STANDING OVER THEM.
" SHE IS QUITE EXHAUSTED," SAID THE SCHOOLMASTER.
"AQUILINE ! " CRIED QUILP, THRUSTING IN HIS HEAD.
BOTH MOTHER AND DAUGHTER, TREMBLING WITH TERROR AND COLD,
..... OBEYED MR. QUILP DIRECTIONS IN SUBMISSIVE SILENCE.
"HALLOA!"
ELEVATING HIS GLASS, DRANK TO THEIR NEXT MERRY-MEETING IN THAT JOVIAL SPOT
THE CHILD SAT DOWN IN THIS OLD, SILENT PLACE.
"THEN, MARCHIONESS," SAID MR. SWIVELLER, "FIRE AWAY ! "
THE AIR WAS, ' AWAY WITH MELANCHOLY '.
"IS'IT LIKE KIT — IS IT HIS PICTURE, HIS IMAGE, HIS VERY SELF? "
THE MARCHIONESS JUMPED UP QUICKLY, AND CLAPPED HER HANDS.
SHE HAD NOTHING I'OR IT NOW, THEREFORE, BUT TO RUN AFTER THE CHAISE.
TOM IMMEDIATELY WALKED UPON HIS HANDS TO THE WINDOW, AND — IF THE EXPRESSION BE ALLOWABLE— LOOKED IN WITH HIS SHOES.
THE STRONG TIDE FILLED HIS THROAT, AND BORE HIM ON UPON ITS RAPID CURRENT.
"MASTER!" HE CRIED, STOOPING ON ONE KNEE AND CATCHING ON HIS HAND. "DEAR MASTER¨!" SPEAK TO ME!"
TWO WRETCHED PEOPLE WERE MORE THAN ONCE OBSERVED TO CRAWL AT DUSK FROM THE INMOST RECESSES OF ST. GILES'S.
Frontispiece in color
