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Updated: May 22, 2025
Would you tell Bawwah to put three pairs of breeches in hand for me, leather. Yours very truly, The wrath of Mr. Neefit on receiving this letter at his shop in Conduit Street was almost divine. He had heard from Polly an account of that last interview at Ramsgate, and Polly had told her story as truly as she knew how to tell it.
"Fritz," said Waddle pathetically, "don't think about it. You can't better the wages." Herr Bawwah looked up from his pot of beer and muttered a German oath. He had been told that he was beastly, skulking, pig-headed, obstinate, drunken, with some other perhaps stronger epithets which may be omitted, and he had been told that he was a German. In that had lain the venom.
The Herr swallowed the second glass, as he would have done a third had it been offered to him, and then took his departure. "That was another dun; eh, Newton?" asked the lieutenant. "What a conjuror you are?" said Ralph. "I never heard of his sending Bawwah out before," said the captain. "He never does under two hundred and fifty pounds," said Ralph. "It's a mark of the greatest respect.
There was the word that rankled. He had another pot of beer, and though it was then only twelve o'clock on a Monday morning Herr Bawwah swore that he was going to make a day of it, and that old Neefit might cut out the stuff for himself if he pleased. As they were now at the end of March, which is not a busy time of the year in Mr.
I call it low." Waddle endeavoured to explain the circumstances, but failed. "De peoples should be de peoples, and de nobles should be de nobles," said Herr Bawwah; a doctrine which was again unintelligible to Mr. Waddle. Ralph having overcome an intense desire to throw over his engagement, to sell his horses, and to start for Jerusalem, did go down to Margate.
It was easier to talk of his own affairs sitting at ease in his own arm-chair, than to carry on the discussion among the various sporting garments which adorned Mr. Neefit's little back room, subject to interruption from customers, and possibly within the hearing of Mr. Waddle and Herr Bawwah.
Now there slipped very slowly into the room, that most mysterious person who was commonly called Herr Bawwah, much to the astonishment of the three young gentlemen, as the celebrated cutter of leather had never previously been seen by either of them elsewhere than standing silent at his board in Neefit's shop, with his knife in his hands.
They looked at one another, and the two military gentlemen thought that Mr. Neefit was very much in earnest when he sent Bawwah to look for his money. Mr. Neefit was very much in earnest; but on this occasion his emissary had not come for money. "What, Herr Bawwah; is that you?" said Ralph, making the best he could of the name. "Is there anything wrong at the shop?"
Herr Bawwah, over a pot of beer in the public-house opposite, suggested to Mr. Waddle that "the governor might be ," in a manner that affected Mr. Waddle greatly. It was an eloquent and energetic expression of opinion, almost an expression of a settled purpose as coming from the German as it did come; and Waddle was bound to admit that cause had been given.
Waddle that morning, to his friend Herr Bawwah, when he was told to mark off Ralph's account in the books as settled. "Dashed if they 'aven't," the German grunted. "Old Neverfit's a-playing at 'igh game, ain't he?" Such was the most undeserved nickname by which this excellent tradesman was known in his own establishment. "I don't see nodin about 'igh," said the German. "He ain't got no money.
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