He was up very early, and as Mrs. Jog was falling into a comfortable nap,
she was aroused by his well-known voice hallooing as loud as he could in
the middle of the entrance-passage.
'BARTHOLO-_me-e-w!_' the last syllable being pronounced or
prolonged like a mew of a cat. 'BARTHOLO-_me-e-w!_' repeated he,
not getting an answer to the first shout.
'MURRY ANN!' shouted he, after another pause.
'MURRY ANN!' exclaimed he, still louder.
Just then, the iron latch of a door at the top of the house opened, and a
female voice exclaimed hurriedly over the banisters:
'Yes, sir! here, sir! comin' sir! comin'!'
'Oh, Murry Ann (puff), that's (wheeze) you, is it?' asked Jog, still
speaking at the top of his voice.
'Yes, sir,' replied Mary Ann.
'Oh! then, Murry Ann, I wanted to (puff)--that you'd better get the (puff)
breakfast ready early. I think Mr. (gasp)--Sponge will be (wheezing) away
to-day.'
'Yes, sir,' replied Mary Ann.
All this was said in such a tone as could not fail to be heard all over the
house; certainly into Mr.
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