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Updated: June 8, 2025
Snagsby has appropriated, and the lady being unproducible, she directs her mental eye, for the present, with redoubled vigilance to the boy. "And who," quoth Mrs. Snagsby for the thousand and first time, "is that boy? Who is that !" And there Mrs. Snagsby is seized with an inspiration. He has no respect for Mr. Chadband. No, to be sure, and he wouldn't have, of course.
Chadband composes herself grimly by the fire and warms her knees, finding that sensation favourable to the reception of eloquence. It happens that Mr.
Primrose is a good man, the best we have in your English fiction, but odd and amusing rather than otherwise. Then Dickens has given us Chadband and Stiggins, and you Charles Honeyman.
Chadband states the question as if he were propounding an entirely new riddle of much ingenuity and merit to Mr. Snagsby and entreating him not to give it up. Mr. Snagsby, greatly perplexed by the mysterious look he received just now from his little woman at about the period when Mr. Chadband mentioned the word parents is tempted into modestly remarking, "I don't know, I'm sure, sir."
"My young friend," says Chadband, "you are to us a pearl, you are to us a diamond, you are to us a gem, you are to us a jewel. And why, my young friend?" "I don't know," replies Jo. "I don't know nothink." "My young friend," says Chadband, "it is because you know nothing that you are to us a gem and jewel. For what are you, my young friend? Are you a beast of the field? No. A bird of the air? No.
Vavasor that young woman was crying her eyes out last night over the meanest humbug of a Chadband I ever set mine on! There ain't one of those fishes comes within sight of him for ugliness. And she would have it he was to be pitied sorrowed over loved, I suppose!" The last words of his speech he whined out in a lackadaisical tone. Hester flushed, but said nothing.
"I suppose now," returns that officer, "YOU will he expecting a twenty-pound note or a present of about that figure?" Mrs. Chadband merely laughs and contemptuously tells him he can "offer" twenty pence. "My friend the law-stationer's good lady, over there," says Mr. Bucket, luring Mrs. Snagsby forward with the finger. "What may YOUR game be, ma'am?" Mrs.
"But you beg the question," I said, "by saying 'FALSE witness. I quite agree that to discuss people in a malicious spirit, or in a spirit of mockery, with the intention of exaggerating their faults and making a grotesque picture of their foibles, is wrong. But two just persons, such as you and I are, may surely talk over our friends, in what Mr. Chadband called a spirit of love?"
Chadband, expressing a considerable amount of oil from the pores of his forehead and the palms of his hands, says aloud, "Yes. You first!" and retires to his former place. "I was the client and friend of Mr. Tulkinghorn," pipes Grandfather Smallweed then; "I did business with him. I was useful to him, and he was useful to me. Krook, dead and gone, was my brother-in-law.
The account is now favourably balanced: my creditor has accepted a composition. O let us be joyful, joyful! O let us be joyful!" Great sensation on the part of Mrs. Snagsby. "My friends," says Chadband, looking round him in conclusion, "I will not proceed with my young friend now.
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