'You go up first with the light,' said Bailey to Mr Jonas, 'and we'll
foller. Don't tremble so. He won't hurt you. When I've had a drop too
much, I'm full of good natur myself.'
She went on before; and her husband and Bailey, by dint of tumbling
over each other, and knocking themselves about, got at last into the
sitting-room above stairs, where Jonas staggered into a seat.
'There!' said Mr Bailey. 'He's all right now. You ain't got nothing to
cry for, bless you! He's righter than a trivet!'
The ill-favoured brute, with dress awry, and sodden face, and rumpled
hair, sat blinking and drooping, and rolling his idiotic eyes about,
until, becoming conscious by degrees, he recognized his wife, and shook
his fist at her.
'Ah!' cried Mr Bailey, squaring his arms with a sudden emotion. 'What,
you're wicious, are you? Would you though! You'd better not!'
'Pray, go away!' said Merry. 'Bailey, my good boy, go home. Jonas!' she
said; timidly laying her hand upon his shoulder, and bending her head
down over him. 'Jonas!'
'Look at her!' cried Jonas, pushing her off with his extended arm.
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