I wouldn't give THAT for his chance of walking about the
streets this time ten years.' With this, Mr. Price snapped his
fingers contemptuously, and rang the bell.
'Give me a sheet of paper, Crookey,' said Mr. Price to the
attendant, who in dress and general appearance looked something
between a bankrupt glazier, and a drover in a state of
insolvency; 'and a glass of brandy-and-water, Crookey, d'ye
hear? I'm going to write to my father, and I must have a
stimulant, or I shan't be able to pitch it strong enough into the
old boy.' At this facetious speech, the young boy, it is almost
needless to say, was fairly convulsed.
'That's right,' said Mr. Price. 'Never say die. All fun, ain't it?'
'Prime!' said the young gentleman.
'You've got some spirit about you, you have,' said Price.
'You've seen something of life.'
'I rather think I have!' replied the boy. He had looked at it
through the dirty panes of glass in a bar door.
Mr. Pickwick, feeling not a little disgusted with this dialogue,
as well as with the air and manner of the two beings by whom it
had been carried on, was about to inquire whether he could not
be accommodated with a private sitting-room, when two or three
strangers of genteel appearance entered, at sight of whom the
boy threw his cigar into the fire, and whispering to Mr.
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