Allen.'
'Don't think of me for a minute,' replied Bob. 'I've arranged
it all; Sam and I will share the dickey between us. Look here.
This little bill is to be wafered on the shop door: "Sawyer, late
Nockemorf. Inquire of Mrs. Cripps over the way." Mrs. Cripps
is my boy's mother. "Mr. Sawyer's very sorry," says Mrs. Cripps,
"couldn't help it--fetched away early this morning to a
consultation of the very first surgeons in the country--couldn't do
without him--would have him at any price--tremendous
operation." The fact is,' said Bob, in conclusion, 'it'll do me more
good than otherwise, I expect. If it gets into one of the local
papers, it will be the making of me. Here's Ben; now then,
jump in!'
With these hurried words, Mr. Bob Sawyer pushed the postboy
on one side, jerked his friend into the vehicle, slammed the door,
put up the steps, wafered the bill on the street door, locked it,
put the key in his pocket, jumped into the dickey, gave the word
for starting, and did the whole with such extraordinary
precipitation, that before Mr. Pickwick had well begun to consider
whether Mr. Bob Sawyer ought to go or not, they were rolling
away, with Mr.
Pages:
1232
1233
1234
1235
1236
1237
1238
1239
1240
1241
1242
1243
1244
1245
1246
1247
1248
1249
1250
1251
1252
1253
1254
1255
1256