'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.
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