Lowten. 'About getting
that customer that we paid the ten shillings in the pound to the
bill-discounter for, on your account--to get him out of the
Fleet, you know--about getting him to Demerara.'
'Oh, Mr. Jingle,' said Mr. Pickwick hastily. 'Yes. Well?'
'Well, it's all arranged,' said Lowten, mending his pen. 'The
agent at Liverpool said he had been obliged to you many times
when you were in business, and he would be glad to take him on
your recommendation.'
'That's well,' said Mr. Pickwick. 'I am delighted to hear it.'
'But I say,' resumed Lowten, scraping the back of the pen
preparatory to making a fresh split, 'what a soft chap that other is!'
'Which other?'
'Why, that servant, or friend, or whatever he is; you know, Trotter.'
'Ah!' said Mr. Pickwick, with a smile. 'I always thought him
the reverse.'
'Well, and so did I, from what little I saw of him,' replied
Lowten, 'it only shows how one may be deceived. What do you
think of his going to Demerara, too?'
'What! And giving up what was offered him here!' exclaimed
Mr. Pickwick.
'Treating Perker's offer of eighteen bob a week, and a rise if
he behaved himself, like dirt,' replied Lowten.
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