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'But pardon me, interposed the gentle victim, 'I have not. I should consider it presumption. 'There, Mr Riah! said Fledgeby, 'isn't that handsomely said? Come! Make terms with me for Mr Twemlow. The old man looked again for any sign of permission to spare the poor little gentleman. No. Mr Fledgeby meant him to be racked. 'I am very sorry, Mr Twemlow, said Riah. 'I have my instructions.
This expression of regret being but partially intelligible to Mr Riah, the old man reverted to the injuries Fledgeby had received, and hinted at the necessity of his at once going to tend that beaten cur. 'Godmother, godmother, godmother! cried Miss Wren irritably, 'I really lose all patience with you. One would think you believed in the Good Samaritan. How can you be so inconsistent?
The little dried gentleman was so occupied with his own depressed reflections that he did not notice the remark until the sound of Mr Fledgeby's voice had died out of the counting-house. Then he started, and said: 'I beg your pardon, sir. I fear you spoke to me? 'I said, remarked Fledgeby, a little louder than before, 'it was a fine day. 'I beg your pardon. I beg your pardon. Yes.
'Yes, said Miss Jenny, with a silent chuckle. 'It looks as if it ought to be Pickled. Mr Fledgeby collapsed under the word 'Pickled, and groaned again. 'My kitchen is on this floor, he said; 'you'll find brown paper in a dresser-drawer there, and a bottle of vinegar on a shelf. Would you have the kindness to make a few plasters and put 'em on? It can't be kept too quiet.
'You are a very offensive fellow, sir, cried Mr Lammle, rising. 'You are a highly offensive scoundrel. What do you mean by this behaviour? 'I say! remonstrated Fledgeby. 'Don't break out. 'You are a very offensive fellow sir, repeated Mr Lammle. 'You are a highly offensive scoundrel! 'I SAY, you know! urged Fledgeby, quailing.
'You may well smart, young man! exclaimed Miss Jenny. And stealthily rubbed her little hands behind him, and poked a few exultant pokes with her two forefingers over the crown of his head. 'What do you think of vinegar and brown paper? inquired the suffering Fledgeby, still rocking and moaning. 'Does it look as if vinegar and brown paper was the sort of application?
'Well then; there is, said Lammle; 'there IS something wrong; the whole thing's wrong. 'I say! remonstrated Fascination very slowly, and sitting down with his hands on his knees to stare at his glowering friend with his back to the fire. 'I tell you, Fledgeby, repeated Lammle, with a sweep of his right arm, 'the whole thing's wrong. The game's up.
Upon my soul it is uncommon good! 'Now, old 'un, proceeded Fledgeby, when he had had his laugh out, 'you'll buy up these lots that I mark with my pencil there's a tick there, and a tick there, and a tick there and I wager two-pence you'll afterwards go on squeezing those Christians like the Jew you are.
'How much for this now? 'Two precious silver shillings, said Miss Wren. Riah confirmed her with two nods, as Fledgeby looked to him. A nod for each shilling. 'Well, said Fledgeby, poking into the contents of the basket with his forefinger, 'the price is not so bad. You have got good measure, Miss What-is-it. 'Try Jenny, suggested that young lady with great calmness.
'Next, said Fledgeby, 'concerning that bill-broking branch of the business; the branch I like best. What queer bills are to be bought, and at what prices? You have got your list of what's in the market? 'Sir, a long list, replied Riah, taking out a pocket-book, and selecting from its contents a folded paper, which, being unfolded, became a sheet of foolscap covered with close writing.
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