Beadle's Dime Novels No. 47: Tim Bumble's Charge — page 77: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

BRIDGET AND HENRY. ; 7 say,” she muttered, angrily, to herself. “It’s livin’ a life ye are that won't make ye a better man,” she said, aloud.” “ But when I get tired of doing nothing, I’m going to get a wife that'll support me, as Tim did,” he remarked, whiffing the smoke as nearly in the direction where she stood: as pos- sible. “If it anit for the sake of yer mother, I'd tache ye to insult a respictable famale,” cried Bridget, stopping short in her work, and shaking her head and hands at him. “But I'll not lave her until I’m taken away, and thin it won't be of my own will, nor on me own feet, ’'m thinkin’. An’ re- mimber, if Tim’s got a wife that supports him, Bridget’s got a husband that kapes no sacrets from her. Would ye be kind enough, Mr. Henry Lattison, to till me the time o’ day ?” Bridget’s face, as she said this, was a study for a painter— so triumphant, so cunning, so searching; the lips shut and pureed up, the head tossed aside and-shaken with that “I’ve got you now” expression, that gives shrewdness to the most common-place countenance. The boy started, took his cigar from his mouth, and clenched his ry Tim. : “Well, what of that?” he asked, fiercely. “S’pose your mother knew it, my young sir. Don’t you think it would take the heart « her outsher son a-pawning 5 of his dead father’s—” “Sh !” cried the boy, éasthid a fearful glance about him ; ‘for goodness’ sake, Bridget, hold your tongue.” “T will, if ye behave yourself as a boy should, an’ help your poor mother,” returned Bridget, with warmth, “even if {96 to:bpey Ath cowning snysalt” “Oh, you needn’t do that; I’ve got friends,” replied the oy, sulkily. | “Yis, an’ one of ‘em’s Mr: Sylvester,. s-worriting your mother’s life out of her. I s'pose ye wish she’d marry him for the sake of your idleness,” spoke Bridget, flouring. the beef with an energy that proved her mind preoccupied, per- haps, with the idea that she would like to inflict personal chas- tisement on the man before spoken of. “I Wish she would, for her own,” said the boy; '* woulda’t have to drudge any more, and you—” “ comliclooks.comn