The String of Pearls (1850), p. 408

She at once now proceeded to the door of the parlour, and tapped at it until Todd opened it, and popped his head out with a grim smile.
"Oh, Charley my dear," he said, "does a gentleman want me?"
"Yes, sir."
"A-hem! Good morning, sir," added Tood, as he advanced, tying on his apron. #< A shave I, presume, sir? A close shave, sir? I do think of all the luxuries in life, sir, a good close shave—what I call a regular polish off, sir—is one of the greatest in a small way. Charley, ain't it near breakfast time, my good lad?"
"Yes, sir," said Johanna. "I daresay it is."
"Very good. The hot- water, thank you my dear—you will take two pence from the till, Charley, and get yourself somewhere about the market a—Well now?"
A thin man in a cloak made his appearance at the door of the shop, and taking off his hat, made a bow, as he said—
"I believe I have the pleasure of speaking to the pious Mr. Todd?"
"My name is Todd, sir. What is it?"
"I am truly delighted," said the tall thin man sitting down upon the nearest seat, and placing his hat upon his knees. "I am truly delighted to see you. Pray go on shaving that gentleman, as I shall be some time."
"Some time about what?" almost screamed Todd.
"Finding the tract, from which I purpose reading to you a few extracts upon the all-important subject of the election of grace, and the insufficiency of works."
Todd stropped a razor, and glared at the intruder, who, fitting on his nose with great precision a pair of blue spectacles, began rumaging in his hat.
"Humph! this is it. No—this is not it. Well, I thought I had it here, and so I have. This is—no. This is an imaginary and highly religious discourse upon saints, and St. Dunstan in particular."
Johanna knew in a moment that this other man was a friend likewise. He, too, had pronounced the words St. Dunstan in a peculiar manner.
Todd suddenly became quite calm.
"Sir," he said, "I take it as a very particular favour, indeed, that you should have called here upon such an errand, and I only beg that you will not hurry yourself in the least; I can go on shaving this gentleman, and perhaps when he is gone, you will permit me the honour of operating upon you."
"With great pleasure," replied the man. "Dear me, where can the tract be? Is this it? No—this is about the pious milkmaid, who always put up a prayer for the milking-pail, to prevent the cow from kicking it over. Dear me, where can it be? Oh, is this it? No—this is the story of the pious barber's boy, who, when he had an opportunity, went over the way and found his father there! Dear me, where can it be?"
Johanna starred.
"The barber's boy," she thought, "who went over the way and found his father there? Those words are for me."
She was now in quite a fever of anxiety to leave the shop, for she did not doubt but that by some means her father had heard of her position, and she felt that then nothing but the actual sight of her in perfect health and safety would satisfy him. But she dared not show the anxiety she felt. She bent over the fire, and affected to be stirring the turf.
"You can go and get your breakfast, Charley," said Todd.
"Thank you, sir."
Johanna would not betray any haste, but she shook with agitation as she neared the door; and then she recollected that she had not taken the twopence from the till as she had been told to do, and that the circumstance of not doing so might create suspicion.
She crept back and possessed herself of the pence. Todd watched her with the eyes of demon.
"Are you going, my dear Charley?" he said.