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Dickens, Charles

"The Pickwick Papers"


'I wants to make your flesh creep,' replied the boy.
This sounded like a very bloodthirsty mode of showing one's
gratitude; and as the old lady did not precisely understand the
process by which such a result was to be attained, all her former
horrors returned.
'What do you think I see in this very arbour last night?'
inquired the boy.
'Bless us! What?' exclaimed the old lady, alarmed at the
solemn manner of the corpulent youth.
'The strange gentleman--him as had his arm hurt--a-kissin'
and huggin'--'
'Who, Joe? None of the servants, I hope.'
'Worser than that,' roared the fat boy, in the old lady's ear.
'Not one of my grandda'aters?'
'Worser than that.'
'Worse than that, Joe!' said the old lady, who had thought this
the extreme limit of human atrocity. 'Who was it, Joe? I insist
upon knowing.'
The fat boy looked cautiously round, and having concluded
his survey, shouted in the old lady's ear--
'Miss Rachael.'
'What!' said the old lady, in a shrill tone. 'Speak louder.'
'Miss Rachael,' roared the fat boy.
'My da'ater!'
The train of nods which the fat boy gave by way of assent,
communicated a blanc-mange like motion to his fat cheeks.


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