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'You may depend upon that, replied Nicholas; 'on one condition. 'And wa'at may thot be? asked John. 'That you make me a godfather the very first time you have occasion for one. 'Eh! d'ye hear thot? cried John, laying down his knife and fork. 'A godfeyther! Ha! ha! ha! Tilly hear till 'un a godfeyther! Divn't say a word more, ye'll never beat thot. Occasion for 'un a godfeyther! Ha! ha! ha!
He chuckled, roared, half suffocated himself by laughing large pieces of beef into his windpipe, roared again, persisted in eating at the same time, got red in the face and black in the forehead, coughed, cried, got better, went off again laughing inwardly, got worse, choked, had his back thumped, stamped about, frightened his wife, and at last recovered in a state of the last exhaustion and with the water streaming from his eyes, but still faintly ejaculating, 'A godfeyther a godfeyther, Tilly! in a tone bespeaking an exquisite relish of the sally, which no suffering could diminish.
'Halloa! cried a voice inside. 'Wa'et be the matther noo? Be the toon a-fire? Ding, but thou mak'st noise eneaf! With these words, John Browdie opened the door himself, and opening his eyes too to their utmost width, cried, as he clapped his hands together, and burst into a hearty roar: 'Ecod, it be the godfeyther, it be the godfeyther! Tilly, here be Misther Nickleby. Gi' us thee hond, mun.
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