At this period of the entertainment, Guster, who has never recovered her first failure, but has neglected no possible or impossible means of bringing the establishment and herself into contempt—among which may be briefly enumerated her unexpectedly performing clashing military music on Mr. Chadband’s head with plates, and afterwards crowning that gentleman with muffins—at which period of the entertainment, Guster whispers Mr. Snagsby that he is wanted.
“And being wanted in the—not to put too fine a point upon it—in the shop,” says Mr. Snagsby, rising, “perhaps this good company will excuse me for half a minute.”
Mr. Snagsby descends and finds the two ’prentices intently contemplating a police constable, who holds a ragged boy by the arm.
“Why, bless my heart,” says Mr. Snagsby, “what’s the matter!”
“This boy,” says the constable, “although he’s repeatedly told to, won’t move on—”
“I’m always a-moving on, sar,” cries the boy, wiping away his grimy tears with his arm. “I’ve always been a-moving and a-moving on, ever since I was born. Where can I possibly move to, sir, more nor I do move!”
“He won’t move on,” says the constable calmly, with a slight professional hitch of his neck involving its better settlement in his stiff stock, “although he has been repeatedly cautioned, and therefore I am obliged to take him into custody. He’s as obstinate a young gonoph as I know. He won’t move on.”