“Now lookee here,” he said, “you get me a file and you get me wittles; you bring both to me to-morrow morning early, that file and them wittles.  You bring the lot to me at that old Battery yonder.  You do it, and you never dare to say a word concerning your having seen such a person as me, and you shall be let live.  You fail in any partickler and your heart and your liver shall be tore out, roasted and ate!  Now I ain’t alone, as you may think.  There is a young man hid with me who hears the words I speak.  It is in wain for a boy to attempt to hide himself from that young man.  A boy may lock his door, may be warm in bed, may draw the clothes over his head, may think himself comfortable and safe, but that young man will soon creep and creep his way to him and tear him open.  I am a-keeping the young man from harming of you at the present moment with great difficulty.  Now what do you say?”

I said I would get him the file and what food I could, and would come to him early in the morning.

“Say, Lord strike me dead, if you don’t!”

I said so and he took me down.  I faltered a good night, and he turned to go, walking as if he were numb and stiff.  When I saw him turn to look once more at me, I made the best use of my legs, having a terrible fear of him, and of the young man, and I ran home without once stopping.

I found the forge shut up and Joe alone in the kitchen.  The minute I raised the latch, he said: 

“Mrs. Joe has been out a dozen times looking for you, Pip, and she’s out now, and what’s more, she’s got Tickler with her.”

At this dismal intelligence I looked with great depression at the fire.  Tickler was a wax-ended piece of cane, worn smooth by contact with my tickled frame.

“She sot down,” said Joe, “and she got up, and she made a grab at Tickler, and she rampaged out.  Now she’s a-coming!  Go behind the door, old chap!”

I took the advice, but my sister, throwing the door wide open, and finding an obstruction behind it, guessed the cause, and applied Tickler to its further investigation.

“Where have you been, you young monkey?” she asked, stamping her foot; “Tell me directly what you’ve been doing to wear me away with fret and fright and worrit?”

“I have only been in the church-yard,” said I, crying and rubbing myself, but my answer did not satisfy my sister, who kept on scolding and applying Tickler to my person until she was obliged to see to the tea things.  Though I was very hungry, I dared not eat my bread and butter, for I felt that I must have something in reserve to take my dreadful acquaintance in case I could find nothing else.  Therefore, at a moment when no one was looking, I put a hunk of bread and butter down the leg of my trousers.  Joe thought I had eaten it in one gulp, which greatly distressed him, and I was borne off and dosed with tar water.