The String of Pearls (1850), p. 312

"Fortunate lad," he said. "Exemplary master! How true. Ha!"—Poor Johanna shuddered at that dreadful charnel-house sort of laugh.
"My God." she thought, "was that the last sound that rung in the ears of my poor Mark, ere he bade adieu to this world for ever?" Then she could not
but utter a sort of groan.
"What's that?" said Todd.
"What, sir?"
"I—I thought some one groaned, or—or sighed. Was it you ? No.—Well, it was nothing. See if that water on the fire is hot. Do you hear me ? Well—well don't be alarmed. Is it hot?"
"I think."
"Think! Put your hand in it."
"Quite hot, sir."
"Well, then, master Charley—Ah! A customer! Come in, sir; come in, if you please, sir. A remarkably fine day, sir. Cloudy, though. Pray be seated, sir. A-hem! Now, Charley, bustle—bustle. Shaved, sir, I presume? D—n the door!"
Todd was making exertions to shut the door after the entrance of a stout-built man, in an ample white coat and a broad brimmed farmer looking hat; but he could not get it close, and then the stout-built man cried out—
"Why don't you come in, Bob—leave off your tricks. Why you is old enough to know better."
"It's only me," said another stout-built man, in another white coat, as he came in with a broad grin upon his face. "It's only me, Mr. Barber—ha! ha! ha!"
Todd looked quite bland, as he said—
"Well, it was a good joke. I could not for the moment think what it was kept the door from shutting, and I always close it, because there's a mad dog in the neighbourhood, you see, gentlemen."
Crack went something to the floor.
"It's this mug, sir," said Charley. " I dropped it."
"Well—well, my dear, don't mind that. Accidents, you know, will happen; bless you."
Todd, as he said this, caught up a small piece of Charley's hair in his finger and thumb, and gave it a terrific pinch. Poor Johanna with difficulty controlled her tears.
"Now, sir, be seated if you please. From the country, I suppose, sir?"
"Yes. A clean shave, if you please. We corned up from Barkshire, both on us, with beasts."
"You and your brother, sir?"
"My cousin, tother'un is; ain't you Bill?"
"Yes, to be sure."
"Now, Charley, the soap dish. Look alive—look alive, my little man, will you?"
"Yes, sir."
"You must excuse him being rather slow, gentlemen, but he's not used to the business yet, poor boy—on father, no mother, no friend in all the world but
me, sir."
"Really!"
"Yes, poor lad," but thank God I have a heart—Leave the whiskers as they are, sir?—"Yes, and I can feel for the distresses of a fellow creature. Many's
the—Your brother—I beg pardon, cousin, will be shaved likewise, sir?—pound I have given away in the name of the Lord. Charley, will you look alive with that soap dish. A pretty boy, sir; is he not?"
"Very. His complexion is like—like a pearl."
Johanna dropped the soap dish, and clasped her hands over her eyes. That word "pearl" had for the moment got the better of her.