"Your sort o' folks knuckle to the devil more nor I do.

A good bein' I take to, but a bad bein' I'm careless with; an' I don't make no more o' slingin' his name round nor I do kickin' an old boot." Mr.Snow was obliged to laugh, and half a dozen others, who had gathered about them, joined in a merry chorus.
Then Miss Snow came out and whispered to her father, and gave a roguish glance at Jim.

At this time the house was full, the little yard was full, and there was a crowd of boys at the gate.

Mr.Snow took Jim by the arm and led him in.

They pressed through the crowd at the door, Miss Snow making way for them, and so, in a sort of triumphal progress, they went through the room, and disappeared in the apartment where "the little woman," flushed and expectant, waited their arrival.
It would be hard to tell which was the more surprised as they were confronted by the meeting.