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Elisha Cuthbert Photos Books: Martin Eden The Pickwick Papers The Sea Wolf |
said Mr. Muzzle.
So cheerful he is! said Sam.
In such good spirits! said Muzzle.
And so glad to see us--that makes it so much more
comfortable, said Sam. Sit down; sit down.
Mr. Trotter suffered himself to be forced into a chair by the
fireside. He cast his small eyes, first on Mr. Weller, and then on
Mr. Muzzle, but said nothing.
Well, now, said Sam, afore these here ladies, I should jest like
to ask you, as a sort of curiosity, whether you dont consider
yourself as nice and well-behaved a young genlmn, as ever used
a pink check pocket-handkerchief, and the number four collection?
And as was ever a-going to be married to a cook, said that
lady indignantly. The willin!
And leave off his evil ways, and set up in the chandlery line
arterwards, said the housemaid.
Now, Ill tell you what it is, young man, said Mr. Muzzle
solemnly, enraged at the last two allusions, this here lady
(pointing to the cook) keeps company with me; and when you
presume, Sir, to talk of keeping chandlers shops with her, you
injure me in one of the most delicatest points in which one man
can injure another. Do you understand that, Sir?
Here Mr. Muzzle, who had a great notion of his eloquence, in
which he imitated his master, paused for a reply.
But Mr. Trotter made no reply. So Mr. Muzzle proceeded in a
solemn manner--
Its very probable, sir, that you wont be wanted upstairs for
several minutes, Sir, because MY master is at this moment
particularly engaged in settling the hash of YOUR master, Sir; and
therefore youll have leisure, Sir, for a little private talk with me,
Sir. Do you understand that, Sir?
Mr. Muzzle again paused for a reply; and again Mr. Trotter
disappointed him.
Well, then, said Mr. Muzzle, Im very sorry to have to
explain myself before ladies, but the urgency of the case will be
my excuse. The back kitchens empty, Sir. If you will step in there,
Sir, Mr. Weller will see fair, and we can have mutual satisfaction
till the bell rings. Follow me, Sir!
As Mr. Muzzle uttered these words, he took a step or two
towards the door; and, by way of saving time, began to pull off
his coat as he walked along.
Now, the cook no sooner heard the concluding words of this
desperate challenge, and saw Mr. Muzzle about to put it into
execution, than she uttered a loud and piercing shriek; and
rushing on Mr. Job Trotter, who rose from his chair on the
instant, tore and buffeted his large flat face, with an energy
peculiar to excited females, and twining her hands in his long
black hair, tore therefrom about enough to make five or six
dozen of the very largest-sized mourning-rings. Having accomplished
this feat with all the ardour which her devoted love for
Mr. Muzzle inspired, she staggered back; and being a lady of
very excitable and delicate feelings, she instantly fell under the
dresser, and fainted away.
At this moment, the bell rang.
Thats for you, Job Trotter, said Sam; and before Mr. Trotter
could offer remonstrance or reply--even before he had time to
stanch the wounds inflicted by the insensible lady--Sam seized
one arm and Mr. Muzzle the other, and one pulling before, and
the other pushing behind, they conveyed him upstairs, and into
the parlour.
It was an impressive tableau. Alfred Jingle, Esquire, alias
Captain Fitz-Marshall, was standing near the door with his hat
in his hand, and a smile on his face, wholly unmoved by his very
unpleasant situation. Confronting him, stood Mr. Pickwick, who
had evidently been inculcating some high moral lesson; for his
left hand was beneath his coat tail, and his right extended in air,
as was his wont when delivering himself of an impressive address.
At a little distance, stood Mr. Tupman with indignant countenance,
carefully held back by his two younger friends; at the
farther end of the room were Mr. Nupkins, Mrs. Nupkins, and
Miss Nupkins, gloomily grand and savagely vexed.
What prevents me, said Mr. Nupkins, with magisterial
dignity, as Job was brought in--what prevents me from detaining
these men as rogues and impostors? It is a foolish mercy. What
prevents me?
Pride, old fellow, pride, replied Jingle, quite at his ease.
Wouldnt do--no go--caught a captain, eh?--ha! ha! very
good--husband for daughter--biter bit--make it public--not for
worlds--look stupid--very!
Wretch, said Mr. Nupkins, we scorn your base insinuations.
I always hated him, added Henrietta.
Oh, of course, said Jingle. Tall young man--old The Pickwick Papers page 170 The Pickwick Papers page 172 |