Well. It wasn't very clean. So
far he spoke the truth.
'Was it poetry now?' said Mr Pecksniff, shaking the forefinger of his
right hand with an air of cheerful banter. 'Or was it politics? Or was
it the price of stock? The main chance, Mr Jonas, the main chance, I
suspect.'
'You ain't far from the truth,' answered Jonas, recovering himself and
snuffing the candle; 'but how the deuce do you come to be in London
again? Ecod! it's enough to make a man stare, to see a fellow looking at
him all of a sudden, who he thought was sixty or seventy mile away.'
'So it is,' said Mr Pecksniff. 'No doubt of it, my dear Mr Jonas. For
while the human mind is constituted as it is--'
'Oh, bother the human mind,' interrupted Jonas with impatience 'what
have you come up for?'
'A little matter of business,' said Mr Pecksniff, 'which has arisen
quite unexpectedly.'
'Oh!' cried Jonas, 'is that all? Well. Here's father in the next room.
Hallo father, here's Pecksniff! He gets more addle-pated every day
he lives, I do believe,' muttered Jonas, shaking his honoured parent
roundly. 'Don't I tell you Pecksniff's here, stupid-head?'
The combined effects of the shaking and this loving remonstrance soon
awoke the old man, who gave Mr Pecksniff a chuckling welcome which was
attributable in part to his being glad to see that gentleman, and in
part to his unfading delight in the recollection of having called him a
hypocrite.
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