On foot, near the weighing stand, is a tall, powerful, and clumsy fellow, got up gaudily--a fellow with a lowering red face, in loud good-humour, very ill-looking. He is now grinning and chuckling with his hands in his pockets, and talking with a little Hebrew, young, sable-haired, with the sallow tint, great black eyes, and fleshy nose that characterise his race. A singularly sullen mouth aids the effect of his vivid eyes, in making this young Jew's face ominous.
"Young Dick Harden's 'ere," said Mr. Levi.
"Eh? is he?" said the big man with the red face and pimples, the green cut-away coat, gilt buttons, purple neck-tie, yellow waistcoat, white cord tights, and top boots.
"Walking down there," said Levi, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder. "I shaw him shpeak to a fellow in chocolate and gold livery."
"And an eagle on the button, I know. That's Lady May Penrose's livery," said his companion. "He came down with her, I lay you fifty. And he has a nice sister as ever you set eyes on--pretty gal, Mr. Levi--a reg'lar little angel," and he giggled after his wont. "If there's a dragful of hangels anyvere, she's one of them. I saw her yesterday in one of Lady May Penrose's carriages in St. James' Street. Mr. Longcluse is engaged to get married to her; you may see them linked arm-in-arm, any day you please, walkin' hup and down Hoxford Street. And her brother, Richard Harden, is to marry Lady May Penrose. That will be a warm family yet, them Hardens, arter all."
"A family with a title, Mr. Ballard, be it never so humble, Sir, like 'ome shweet 'ome, hash nine livesh in it; they'll be down to the last pig, and not the thickness of an old tizzy between them and the glue-pot; and while you'd write your name across the back of a cheque, all's right again. The title doesh it. You never shaw a title in the workus yet, Mr. Ballard, and you'll wait awhile before you 'av a hoppertunity of shayin', 'My lord Dooke, I hope your grashe's water-gruel is salted to your noble tasht thish morning,' or, 'My noble marquishe, I humbly hope you are pleashed with the fit of them pepper-and-salts;' and, 'My lord earl, I'm glad to see by the register you took a right honourable twisht at the crank thish morning.' No, Mishter Ballard, you nor me won't shee that, Shir."