--I know 'em ALL sir," says
Old Mortarity, with exquisite pathos, "and if a flower could spring up
for every tear a friendless old man has dropped upon their neglected
graves, you couldn't see the wooden head-boards for the roses."
"Tharsverytrue," says Mr. BUMSTEAD, much affected--"Not see 'em for your
noses--beaut'ful idea! You're a gooroleman, sir. Here comes SMALLEY
again."
"I ain't doing nothink, and you're all the time wanting me to move on,
and he's werry good to me, he is," whimpers SMALLEY, throwing a stone at
Mr. BUMSTEAD and hitting Old Mortarity.
"Didn't I tell you to always aim at _me_?" cries the latter, angrily
rubbing the place. "Don't I give you a penny a night to aim right at
me?"
"I only chucked once at him," says the youth, penitently.
"You see, Mr. BUMSTEAD," explains JOHN MCLAUGHLIN, "I give him an Object
in life. I am that Object, and it pays me. If you've ever noticed these
boys, sir, they never hit what they aim at. If they throw at a pigeon or
a tree, the stone goes through a garret window. If they throw at a dog,
it hits some passer-by on the leg.
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