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A bright recollection flashed across the Doctor's memory. "Narcisse!" "Yesseh!" "Go to Number 40 Custom-house street and inquire for Mr. Fledgeling; or, if he isn't in, for Mrs. Fledge humph! Richling, I mean; I" Narcisse laughed aloud. "Ha-ha-ha! daz de way, sometime'! My hant she got a honcl' he says, once 'pon a time" "Never mind! Go at once!" "All a-ight, seh!" "Give him this card" "Yesseh!"
No, not that way. It is hard to give his pronunciation by letter. In the word "right" he substituted an a for the r, sounding it almost in the same instant with the i, yet distinct from it: "All a-ight, ole hoss!"
"See here, sir!" exclaimed the Doctor, bringing his fist down upon the arm of his chair, "every time you've gone out of this office for the last six months you've told me you were going to the post-office; now don't you ever tell me that again!" The young man bowed with injured dignity and responded: "All a-ight, seh." He overtook Richling just outside the street entrance.
"These people" "Yesseh!" "Well, wait till you get your errand, can't you? These" "Yesseh!" "These people want to see him." "All a-ight, seh!"
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