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"I wish ye wasn't goin' away," he said in a husky voice. Then
he winked his eyes again. Then he looked at Mr. Havisham, and
touched his cap. "Thanky, sir, fur bringin' him down here an'
fur wot ye've done, He's--he's a queer little feller," he added.
"I've allers thort a heap of him. He's such a game little
feller, an'--an' such a queer little un."
And when they turned away he stood and looked after them in a
dazed kind of way, and there was still a mist in his eyes, and a
lump in his throat, as he watched the gallant little figure
marching gayly along by the side of its tall, rigid escort.
Until the day of his departure, his lordship spent as much time
as possible with Mr. Hobbs in the store. Gloom had settled upon
Mr. Hobbs; he was much depressed in spirits. When his young
friend brought to him in triumph the parting gift of a gold watch
and chain, Mr. Hobbs found it difficult to acknowledge it
properly. He laid the case on his stout knee, and blew his nose
violently several times.
"There's something written on it," said Cedric,--"inside the
case. I told the man myself what to say. `From his oldest
friend, Lord Fauntleroy, to Mr. Hobbs. When this you see,
remember me.' I don't want you to forget me."
Mr. Hobbs blew his nose very loudly again.
"I sha'n't forget you," he said, speaking a trifle huskily, as
Dick had spoken; "nor don't you go and forget me when you get
among the British arrystocracy."
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