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The Pickwick Papers 172

Elisha Cuthbert Photos


Martin Eden

The Pickwick Papers

The Sea Wolf

lover-- Sidney Porkenham--rich--fine fellow--not so rich as captain, though, eh?--turn him away--off with him--anything for captain--nothing like captain anywhere--all the girls--raving mad--eh, Job, eh? Here Mr. Jingle laughed very heartily; and Job, rubbing his hands with delight, uttered the first sound he had given vent to since he entered the house--a low, noiseless chuckle, which seemed to intimate that he enjoyed his laugh too much, to let any of it escape in sound. Mr. Nupkins, said the elder lady,this is not a fit conversation for the servants to overhear. Let these wretches be removed. Certainly, my dear, Said Mr, Nupkins. Muzzle! Your Worship. Open the front door. Yes, your Worship. Leave the house! said Mr. Nupkins, waving his hand emphatically. Jingle smiled, and moved towards the door. Stay! said Mr. Pickwick. Jingle stopped. I might, said Mr. Pickwick, have taken a much greater revenge for the treatment I have experienced at your hands, and that of your hypocritical friend there. Job Trotter bowed with great politeness, and laid his hand upon his heart. I say, said Mr. Pickwick, growing gradually angry, that I might have taken a greater revenge, but I content myself with exposing you, which I consider a duty I owe to society. This is a leniency, Sir, which I hope you will remember. When Mr. Pickwick arrived at this point, Job Trotter, with facetious gravity, applied his hand to his ear, as if desirous not to lose a syllable he uttered. And I have only to add, sir, said Mr. Pickwick, now thoroughly angry, that I consider you a rascal, and a--a--ruffian--and-- and worse than any man I ever saw, or heard of, except that pious and sanctified vagabond in the mulberry livery. Ha! ha! said Jingle, good fellow, Pickwick--fine heart-- stout old boy--but must NOT be passionate--bad thing, very-- bye, bye--see you again some day--keep up your spirits--now, Job--trot! With these words, Mr. Jingle stuck on his hat in his old fashion, and strode out of the room. Job Trotter paused, looked round, smiled and then with a bow of mock solemnity to Mr. Pickwick, and a wink to Mr. Weller, the audacious slyness of which baffles all description, followed the footsteps of his hopeful master. Sam, said Mr. Pickwick, as Mr. Weller was following. Sir. Stay here. Mr. Weller seemed uncertain. Stay here, repeated Mr. Pickwick. Maynt I polish that ere Job off, in the front garden? said Mr. Weller. Certainly not, replied Mr. Pickwick. Maynt I kick him out o the gate, Sir? said Mr. Weller. Not on any account, replied his master. For the first time since his engagement, Mr. Weller looked, for a moment, discontented and unhappy. But his countenance immediately cleared up; for the wily Mr. Muzzle, by concealing himself behind the street door, and rushing violently out, at the right instant, contrived with great dexterity to overturn both Mr. Jingle and his attendant, down the flight of steps, into the American aloe tubs that stood beneath. Having discharged my duty, Sir, said Mr. Pickwick to Mr. Nupkins, I will, with my friends, bid you farewell. While we thank you for such hospitality as we have received, permit me to assure you, in our joint names, that we should not have accepted it, or have consented to extricate ourselves in this way, from our previous dilemma, had we not been impelled by a strong sense of duty. We return to London to-morrow. Your secret is safe with us. Having thus entered his protest against their treatment of the morning, Mr. Pickwick bowed low to the ladies, and notwithstanding the solicitations of the family, left the room with his friends. Get your hat, Sam, said Mr. Pickwick. Its below stairs, Sir, said Sam, and he ran down after it. Now, there was nobody in the kitchen, but the pretty housemaid; and as Sams hat was mislaid, he had to look for it, and the pretty housemaid lighted him. They had to look all over the place for the hat. The pretty housemaid, in her anxiety to find it, went down on her knees, and turned over all the things that were heaped together in a little corner by the door. It was an awkward corner. You couldnt get at it without shutting the door first. Here it is, said the pretty housemaid. This is it, aint it? Let me look, said Sam. The pretty housemaid had stood the candle on the floor; and, as it gave a very dim light, Sam was obliged to go down on HIS knees before he could see whether it really was his own hat or not. it was a remarkably

The Pickwick Papers page 171        The Pickwick Papers page 173