The String of Pearls (1850), p. 219

from you, Mother Oakley, no more nor I could from that ere laughing hyena we
has in the Tower."
"Eugh!—wretch!"
"Sit down, Ben," said Mr. Oakley. "I am glad to see you, and I am quite sure Johanna is."
"Oh, yes, yes."
"That's it," said Ben. "It's on Johanna's account I came. Now, little one,
just tell me—"
Johanna had just time to place her finger upon her lips, unobserved by any
one, and shake her head at Ben."
"Ah—hem! How are you, eh?" he said, turning the conversation. "Come,
Mother O., stir your old stumps and be alive, will you? I have come to lunch
with your lord and master, so bustle—bustle."
Mrs. Oakley rose, and placing her hands upon her hips, she looked at Ben, as
she said—
"You great, horrid, man-mountain of a wretch. I only wonder you ain't
afraid, after the proper punishment you had on the occasion of your last visit, to
show your horrid face here again?"
"You deludes to the physicking, I suppose, mum. Lor bless you, it did us no end of good; but, howsomedever, we provide agin wice in animals when we knows on it aforehand, do you see. Oh, there you is."
A boy howled out from the shop—"Did a gentleman order two gallons of
half-and-half here, please?"
"All's right," said Ben. "Now, Mother O., the only thing I'll trouble you
for, is a knife and fork. As for the rest of the combustibles, here they is."
Ben took from one capacious pocket a huge parcel, containing about six
pounds of boiled beef, and from the other he took as much ham.
"Hold hard!" he cried to the boy who brought the beer. "Take this half-
crown, my lad, and get three quartern loaves."
"But, Ben," said old Mr. Oakley, "I really had no intention, when I asked
you to come to lunch this morning, of making you provide it yourself. We
have, or we ought to have, plenty of everything in the house."
"Old birds," said Ben, "isn't to be caught twice. A fellow, arter he has burnt his fingers, is afeard o' playing with the fire. No, Mrs. O., you gave
us a benefit last time, and I ain't a-going to try my luck again. All's right-
pitch into the grub. How is the chosen vessel, Mother O? All right, eh?"
Mrs. Oakley waited until Ben had made an immense sandwich of ham and
beef; and then in an instant, before he was aware of what she was about, she
caught it up, and slapped it in his face with a vengeance that was quite staggering.
"Easy does it," said Ben.
"Take that, you great, fat elephant."
"Go it—go it."
Mrs. Oakley bounced out of the room. Johanna looked her sorrow; and Mr.
Oakley rose from his chair, but Ben made him sit down again, saying—
"Easy does it—easy does it. Never mind her, cousin Oakley. She must
have her way sometimes. Let her kick and be off. There's no harm done—not a bit. Lord bless you, I'm used to all sorts of cantankerous animals."
Mr. Oakley shook his head.
"Forget it, father," said Johanna.
"I only wish, my dear, I could forget many things; and yet there are so many
others, that I want to remember, mixed up with them, that I don't know how I
should manage to separate them one from the other."
"You couldn't do it," said Ben. "Here's luck in a bag, and shake it out as
you want it."
This sentiment was uttered while Ben's head was deep in the recesses of the
two-gallon can of beer, so that it had a peculiar solemn and sonorous effect with
it. After drinking about a quart, Ben withdrew the can, and drew a long breath.