The Uncommercial Traveller by Charles Dickens
page 57 of 480 (11%)
page 57 of 480 (11%)
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them a wider berth. In every trap, somebody was sitting over a
fire, waiting for Jack. Now, it was a crouching old woman, like the picture of the Norwood Gipsy in the old sixpenny dream-books; now, it was a crimp of the male sex, in a checked shirt and without a coat, reading a newspaper; now, it was a man crimp and a woman crimp, who always introduced themselves as united in holy matrimony; now, it was Jack's delight, his (un)lovely Nan; but they were all waiting for Jack, and were all frightfully disappointed to see us. 'Who have you got up-stairs here?' says Sharpeye, generally. (In the Move-on tone.) 'Nobody, surr; sure not a blessed sowl!' (Irish feminine reply.) 'What do you mean by nobody? Didn't I hear a woman's step go up- stairs when my hand was on the latch?' 'Ah! sure thin you're right, surr, I forgot her! 'Tis on'y Betsy White, surr. Ah! you know Betsy, surr. Come down, Betsy darlin', and say the gintlemin.' Generally, Betsy looks over the banisters (the steep staircase is in the room) with a forcible expression in her protesting face, of an intention to compensate herself for the present trial by grinding Jack finer than usual when he does come. Generally, Sharpeye turns to Mr. Superintendent, and says, as if the subjects of his remarks were wax-work: 'One of the worst, sir, this house is. This woman has been |
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