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Updated: May 27, 2025
"True. The simple fruits of the earth. No. You needn't bring any, William." I went on with my breakfast, and Mr. Pumblechook continued to stand over me, staring fishily and breathing noisily, as he always did. "Little more than skin and bone!" mused Mr. Pumblechook, aloud.
In happier times," addressing me, "I think you took sugar? And did you take milk? You did. Sugar and milk. William, bring a watercress." "Thank you," said I, shortly, "but I don't eat watercresses." "You don't eat 'em," returned Mr. Pumblechook, sighing and nodding his head several times, as if he might have expected that, and as if abstinence from watercresses were consistent with my downfall.
To which my conductor replied, "Pumblechook." The voice returned, "Quite right," and the window was shut again, and a young lady came across the court-yard, with keys in her hand. "This," said Mr. Pumblechook, "is Pip." "This is Pip, is it?" returned the young lady, who was very pretty and seemed very proud; "come in, Pip." Mr. Pumblechook was coming in also, when she stopped him with the gate.
The brandy was poured out and Uncle Pumblechook drank it off. Instantly he sprang to his feet, turned round several times in an appalling, spasmodic whooping-cough dance, and rushed out at the door to the great consternation of the company. Mrs. Joe and Joe ran out and brought him back, and as he sank into his chair he gasped the one word, "Tar!" I had filled up the bottle from the tar-water jug!
"Oh!" she said. "Did you wish to see Miss Havisham?" "If Miss Havisham wished to see me," returned Mr. Pumblechook, discomfited. "Ah!" said the girl; "but you see she don't." She said it so finally, and in such an undiscussible way, that Mr. Pumblechook, though in a condition of ruffled dignity, could not protest.
"Yes!" said I. And although my sister instantly boxed my ears, it was highly gratifying to me to see that the answer spoilt his joke, and brought him to a dead stop. "Boy! What like is Miss Havisham?" Mr. Pumblechook began again when he had recovered; folding his arms tight on his chest and applying the screw. "Very tall and dark," I told him. "Is she, uncle?" asked my sister. Mr.
The gluttony of Swine is put before us, as an example to the young." "Or girl," suggested Mr. Hubble. "Of course, or girl, Mr. Hubble," assented Mr. Wopsle, rather irritably, "but there is no girl present." "Besides," said Mr. Pumblechook, turning sharp on me, "think what you've got to be grateful for. If you'd been born a Squeaker "
I forgit myself when I take such an interest in your breakfast, as to wish your frame, exhausted by the debilitating effects of prodigygality, to be stimilated by the 'olesome nourishment of your forefathers. And yet," said Pumblechook, turning to the landlord and waiter, and pointing me out at arm's length, "this is him as I ever sported with in his days of happy infancy!
"He was, if ever a child was," said my sister, most emphatically. Joe gave me some more gravy. "Well, but I mean a four-footed Squeaker," said Mr. Pumblechook. "If you had been born such, would you have been here now? Not you " "Unless in that form," said Mr. Wopsle, nodding towards the dish. "But I don't mean in that form, sir," returned Mr.
"Yes," said I, "and Miss Estella, that's her niece, I think, handed her in cake and wine at the coach window on a gold plate. And we all had cake and wine on gold plates. And I got up behind the coach to eat mine because she told me to." "Was anybody else there?" asked Mr. Pumblechook. "Four dogs," said I. "Large or small?"
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