Похищенный
Chapter 2
Thebettertosetthisfearatrest,Ichangedtheformofmyinquiries;andspyinganhonestfellowcomingalongalaneontheshaftofhiscart,IaskedhimifhehadeverheardtellofahousetheycalledthehouseofShaws.
Hestoppedhiscartandlookedatme,liketheothers.
“Ay”saidhe.“Whatfor?”
“It’sagreathouse?”Iasked.
“Doubtless,”sayshe.“Thehouseisabig,mucklehouse.”
“Ay,”saidI,“butthefolkthatareinit?”
“Folk?”criedhe.“Areyedaft?There’snaefolkthere—tocallfolk.”
“What?”sayI;“notMr.Ebenezer?”
“Ou,ay”saystheman;“there’sthelaird,tobesure,ifit’shimyou’rewanting.What’lllikebeyourbusiness,mannie?”
“IwasledtothinkthatIwouldgetasituation,”Isaid,lookingasmodestasIcould.
“What?”criesthecarter,insosharpanotethathisveryhorsestarted;andthen,“Well,mannie,”headded,“it’snaneofmyaffairs;butyeseemadecent-spokenlad;andifye’lltakeawordfromme,ye’llkeepclearoftheShaws.”
ThenextpersonIcameacrosswasadapperlittlemaninabeautifulwhitewig,whomIsawtobeabarberonhisrounds;andknowingwellthatbarbersweregreatgossips,IaskedhimplainlywhatsortofamanwasMr.BalfouroftheShaws.
“Hoot,hoot,hoot,”saidthebarber,“naekindofaman,naekindofamanatall;”andbegantoaskmeveryshrewdlywhatmybusinesswas;butIwasmorethanamatchforhimatthat,andhewentontohisnextcustomernowiserthanhecame.
