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out from some near place; and just as he was joining them-’ ‘What then?- out
with it!’ thundered the impatient Hendon, interrupting.

‘Just then the crowd lapped them up and closed them in, and I saw no more,
being called by my master, who was in a rage because a joint that the scrivener
had ordered was forgot, though I take all the saints to witness that to blame me
for that miscarriage were like holding the unborn babe to judgment for sins com-
’ ‘Out of my sight, idiot! Thy prating drives me mad! Hold! whither art flying?
Canst not bide still an instant? Went they toward Southwark?’ ‘Even so, your
worship-for, as I said before, as to that detestable joint, the babe unborn is no
whit more blameless than-’ ‘Art here yet! And prating still? Vanish, lest I throttle
thee!’ The servitor vanished. Hendon followed after him, passed him, and
plunged down the stairs two steps at a stride, muttering, ‘’Tis that scurvy villain
that claimed he was his son. I have lost thee, my poor little mad master-it is a
bitter thought-and I had come to love thee so! No! by book and bell, not lost!
Not lost, for I will ransack the land till I find thee again. Poor child, yonder is his
breakfast-and mine, but I have no hunger now-so, let the rats have it-speed,
speed! that is the word!’ As he wormed his swift way through the noisy
multitudes upon the Bridge, he several times said to himself-clinging to the
thought as if it were a particularly pleasing one: ‘He grumbled but he went-he
went, yes, because he thought Miles Hendon asked it, sweet lad-he would ne’er
have done it for another, I know it well!’
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