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In the midst of such replies as 'Frenchman, sir, 'Porteghee, sir, 'Dutchman, sir, 'Prooshan, sir, and other conflicting testimony, he now heard a feeble voice asking, both in Italian and in French, for water. A general remark going round, in reply, of 'Ah, poor fellow, he says he'll never get over it; and no wonder! Clennam begged to be allowed to pass, as he understood the poor creature.
"Yes... And I took old Duncan off all games for extra-tu five years ago this term," said the Head. "By the way, who do you hand over the Games to, Flint?" "Haven't thought yet. Who'd you recommend, sir?" "No, thank you. I've heard it casually hinted behind my back that the Prooshan Bates is a downy bird, but he isn't going to make himself responsible for a new Head of the Games.
This is in fact part of that "hallucination" of which G. H. Lewes spoke; the scene came so completely before Boz that the words and phrases suggested themselves to him and could not be denied, and he did not ask them to give any account. This principle, however, does not hinder an amusing display of speculation. Mr. Andrew Lang's explanation of "My Prooshan Blue" is certainly far fetched.
The passages must speak for themselves; they are children sent into the world helpless infants like those Pickwickian "expletives, let loose upon society." Among these unexplained things were "my Prooshan Blue" and "Old Nobs." Sir Walter, with real Pickwickian sagacity, points to a true explanation which may be applied in other cases.
'Vell, Sammy, said the father. 'Vell, my Prooshan Blue, responded the son, laying down his pen. 'What's the last bulletin about mother-in-law? 'Mrs. Veller passed a very good night, but is uncommon perwerse, and unpleasant this mornin'. Signed upon oath, Tony Veller, Esquire. That's the last vun as was issued, Sammy, replied Mr. Weller, untying his shawl. 'No better yet? inquired Sam.
Extra-special, please." He disappeared over the hedge as lightly as he had come. There was a murmur of women's voices in the deep lane. "Oh, you Prooshan brute!" said McTurk as the voices died away. "Stalky, it's all your silly fault." "Kill him! Kill him!" gasped Beetle. "I ca-an't. I'm going to cat again... I don't mind that, but King'll gloat over us horrid. Extra-special, ooh!"
You will tell your house-master that you have been formally caned by me." "My word!" said McTurk, wriggling his shoulder-blades all down the corridor. "That was business! The Prooshan Bates has an infernal straight eye." "Wasn't it wily of me to ask for the lickin'," said Stalky, "instead of those impots?" "Rot! We were in for it from the first. I knew the look of his old eye," said Beetle.
Chiefly, though, they talked with the Head, who was father-confessor and agent-general to them all; for what they shouted in their unthinking youth, they proved in their thoughtless manhood to wit, that the Prooshan Bates was "a downy bird."
I have seen a deal of trouble my own self, said Mrs Gamp, laying greater and greater stress upon her words, 'and I can feel for them as has their feelings tried, but I am not a Rooshan or a Prooshan, and consequently cannot suffer Spies to be set over me.
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