Let me have him, if you please.

He's the only friend I have left now.

He'll not dance, or talk, or whistle for you, I know; but he will for me, because he knows me and loves me--though you wouldn't think it--very well.

You wouldn't hurt a bird, I'm sure.

You're a brave soldier, sir, and wouldn't harm a woman or a child--no, no, nor a poor bird, I'm certain.' This latter adjuration was addressed to the serjeant, whom Barnaby judged from his red coat to be high in office, and able to seal Grip's destiny by a word.