'
Mr Jonas immediately let his burden fall, and said, threatening him with
his hand:
'Drop that, Pecksniff!'
Mr Pecksniff not exactly knowing whether allusion was made to the
subject or the portmanteau, stared at his friend in unaffected surprise.
'Drop it, I say!' cried Jonas, fiercely. 'Do you hear? Drop it, now and
for ever. You had better, I give you notice!'
'It was quite a mistake,' urged Mr Pecksniff, very much dismayed;
'though I admit it was foolish. I might have known it was a tender
string.'
'Don't talk to me about tender strings,' said Jonas, wiping his forehead
with the cuff of his coat. 'I'm not going to be crowed over by you,
because I don't like dead company.'
Mr Pecksniff had got out the words 'Crowed over, Mr Jonas!' when that
young man, with a dark expression in his countenance, cut him short once
more:
'Mind!' he said. 'I won't have it. I advise you not to revive the
subject, neither to me nor anybody else. You can take a hint, if you
choose as well as another man. There's enough said about it. Come
along!'
Taking up his part of the load again, when he had said these words,
he hurried on so fast that Mr Pecksniff, at the other end of the
portmanteau, found himself dragged forward, in a very inconvenient and
ungraceful manner, to the great detriment of what is called by fancy
gentlemen 'the bark' upon his shins, which were most unmercifully bumped
against the hard leather and the iron buckles.
Pages:
610
611
612
613
614
615
616
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634