Wot,' said
Mr Bailey, stung by the recollection of his wrongs, 'wot, if they DO
consume the per-vishuns. It an't MY fault, is it?'
'Surely no one says it is,' said Mercy.
'Don't they though?' retorted the youth. 'No. Yes. Ah! oh! No one mayn't
say it is! but some one knows it is. But I an't a-going to have every
rise in prices wisited on me. I an't a-going to be killed because
the markets is dear. I won't stop. And therefore,' added Mr Bailey,
relenting into a smile, 'wotever you mean to give me, you'd better give
me all at once, becos if ever you come back agin, I shan't be here; and
as to the other boy, HE won't deserve nothing, I know.'
The young ladies, on behalf of Mr Pecksniff and themselves, acted
on this thoughtful advice; and in consideration of their private
friendship, presented Mr Bailey with a gratuity so liberal that he could
hardly do enough to show his gratitude; which found but an imperfect
vent, during the remainder of the day, in divers secret slaps upon his
pocket, and other such facetious pantomime. Nor was it confined to these
ebullitions; for besides crushing a bandbox, with a bonnet in it, he
seriously damaged Mr Pecksniff's luggage, by ardently hauling it down
from the top of the house; and in short evinced, by every means in his
power, a lively sense of the favours he had received from that gentleman
and his family.
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