Ain't you
afraid that somebody will run away with such a pretty gal as you--'pon
soul, you are a charmer." "Cross," whispered Arabella, and the two young girls at once crossed
Fleet Street. It was not then so difficult an operation to get from one
side of that thoroughfare to the other as it is now. The gent was by no
means disconcerted at this evident wish to get out of his way, but he
crossed likewise, and commenced a series of persecution, which such
animals call gallantry, and which, to any respectable young female, are
specially revolting. "Now, my dear," he said, "St. Dunstan's is just going to strike the
hour, and you will see the clubs hit the bells if you look, and I shall
expect a kiss when it's all over." "You are impertinent," said Johanna. "Come, that's a good joke--why, you little whipper snapper, I suppose
you came out to take care of your sister. Here's a penny to go and buy
yourself a cold pie at Mrs. Lovett's. I'll see to your sister while you
are gone. Oh, you need not look so wild about it. Did you never hear of
a gent talking to a pretty gal in the street?" "Often," said Johanna, "but I never heard of a gentleman doing so." "Upon my word, you are as sharp as a needle, so I'll just pull your ears
to teach you better manners, you young rascal--come--come, it's no use
your kicking." "Help--help!" cried Arabella. They were now just opposite the principal entrance to the Temple, and as
Arabella cried "help," who should emerge from under the gateway but Ben
the Beef Eater. The fact is, that he was on his way to the Tower just
previous to the meeting with Colonel Jeffery and Tobias. Arabella, who
had twice or thrice seen him at the Oakley's, knew him at once. "Oh, sir," she cried, "I am Johanna's friend, Miss Wilmot, and
this--this gent won't leave me and my cousin here alone." The gent made an effort to escape, but Ben caught him by the hinder part
of his apparel, and held him tight. "Is this him?" "Yes--yes." "Oh dear no--oh dear no, my good sir. It's that fellow there, with the
white hat. There he goes, up Chancery Lane. My dear sir, you are quite
mistaken; I wanted to protect the young lady, and as for the lad, bless
his heart. I--oh dear, it wasn't me." Still holding the gent by the first grasp he had taken of him, Ben
suddenly crossed the road to where a parish pump stood, at the corner of
Bell Yard, and holding him under the spout with one hand, he worked the
handle with the other, despite the shrieks and groans of his victim, who
in a few moments was rendered so limp and wet, that when Ben let him go,
he fell into the sink below the pump, and there lay, until some small
boys began pelting him. During the confusion and laughter of the
bystanders, Arabella and Johanna rapidly retreated towards the City
again, for they thought Ben might insist upon escorting them, and that,
in such a case, it was possible enough the disguise of Johanna, good as
it was, might not suffice to save her from the knowledge of one so well
acquainted with her. "Let us cross, Arabella," she said. "Let us cross, if it be but for one
moment, to hear what the subject of the conversation between Todd and
that man is." "If you wish it, Johanna." "I do, I do." They crossed, and once again passed the shop of Todd, when they heard
the man say--

"Well, if he has gone he has gone, but I think it is the strangest thing
I ever heard of." "So do I," said Todd. Without lingering, and so perhaps exciting Todd's attention and
suspicion, they could hear no more, but Johanna had heard enough to give
the spur to imagination, and when they had again crossed Fleet-street,
and were making their way rapidly up Ludgate-hill, she whispered to
Arabella--

"Another! another!" "Another what, Johanna? You terrify me by that tone. Oh, be calm. Be
calm, I pray you. Some one will observe your agitation." "Another victim," continued Johanna. "Another victim--another victim. Did you not hear what the man said? Was it not suggestive of another
murder? Oh, Heaven preserve my reason, for each day, each hour, brings
to me such accumulating proof of horrors, that I fear I shall go mad." "Hush! hush! Johanna--Johanna!" "My poor, poor Mark--"

"Remember that you are in the street, Johanna, and for my sake, I pray
you to be calm. Those tears and that flushed cheek will betray you. Oh,
why did I ever advise you to come upon such an enterprise as this? It is
my fault, all my fault." The terror and the self-accusation of Arabella Wilmot did more to bring
Johanna to a reasonable state than anything else, and she made an effort
to overcome her feelings, saying--

"Forgive me--forgive me, my dear friend--I, only, am to blame. But at
the moment I was overcome by the thought that, in the heart of London,
such a system of cold-blooded murder--"

She was unable to proceed, and Arabella, holding her arm tightly within
her own, said--

"Do not attempt to say another word until we get home. There, in my
chamber, you can give free vent to your feelings, but let the danger, as
well as the impropriety of doing so in the open street, be present to
your mind. Say no more now, I implore you; say no more." This was prudent advice, and Johanna had sufficient command of herself
to take it, for she uttered not one other word until they were both
almost breathless with the haste they had made to Arabella's chamber. Then, being no longer under the restraint of locality or circumstances,
the tears of Johanna burst forth, and she wept abundantly. Arabella's
romantic reading did sometimes, as it would appear, stand her in good
stead, and upon this occasion she did not attempt to stem the torrent of
grief that was making its way from the eyes of her fair young friend. She told herself that with those tears a load of oppressive grief would
be washed from Johanna's spirit, and the result fully justified her
prognostications. The tears subsided into sobs, and the sobs to sighs. "Ah, my dear friend," she said, "how much have you to put up with from
me. What a world of trouble I am to you." "No," said Arabella, "that you are not, Johanna; I am only troubled when
I see you overcome with too excessive grief, and then, I confess, my
heart is heavy." "It shall not be so again. Forgive me this once, dear Arabella." Johanna flung herself into her friend's arms, and while they kissed each
other, and Arabella was about commencing a hopeful kind of speech, a
servant girl, with open mouth and eyes, looked into the room, transfixed
with amazement. "Well, Miss Bella," she cried at last, "you is fond of boys!" Arabella started, and so did Johanna. "Is that you, Susan?" "Yes, Miss Bella, it is me. Well I never! The idea! I shall never get
the better of this here! Only to think of you, Miss Bella, having a boy
at your time of life." "What do you mean, Susan? How dare you use such language to me? Get you
gone!" "Oh, yes, I'm a-going in course; but if I had anybody in the house, it
shouldn't be a little impudent looking boy with no whiskers."