'
'Wouldn't I?' retorted John. 'That's all you know about it, Pinch.
It must be a very heavy box that I wouldn't carry to get away from
Pecksniff's, Tom.'
'There!' cried Pinch, turning to Martin, 'I told you so. The great fault
in his character is his injustice to Pecksniff. You mustn't mind a word
he says on that subject. His prejudice is most extraordinary.'
'The absence of anything like prejudice on Tom's part, you know,' said
John Westlock, laughing heartily, as he laid his hand on Mr Pinch's
shoulder, 'is perfectly wonderful. If one man ever had a profound
knowledge of another, and saw him in a true light, and in his own proper
colours, Tom has that knowledge of Mr Pecksniff.'
'Why, of course I have,' cried Tom. 'That's exactly what I have so often
said to you. If you knew him as well as I do--John, I'd give almost any
money to bring that about--you'd admire, respect, and reverence him. You
couldn't help it. Oh, how you wounded his feelings when you went away!'
'If I had known whereabout his feelings lay,' retorted young Westlock,
'I'd have done my best, Tom, with that end in view, you may depend upon
it.
Pages:
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397