'
When his hair was smoothed down comfortably into his eyes, Mrs Prig and
Mrs Gamp put on his neckerchief; adjusting his shirt collar with great
nicety, so that the starched points should also invade those organs, and
afflict them with an artificial ophthalmia. His waistcoat and coat
were next arranged; and as every button was wrenched into a wrong
button-hole, and the order of his boots was reversed, he presented on
the whole rather a melancholy appearance.
'I don't think it's right,' said the poor weak invalid. 'I feel as if I
was in somebody else's clothes. I'm all on one side; and you've made one
of my legs shorter than the other. There's a bottle in my pocket too.
What do you make me sit upon a bottle for?'
'Deuce take the man!' cried Mrs Gamp, drawing it forth. 'If he ain't
been and got my night-bottle here. I made a little cupboard of his coat
when it hung behind the door, and quite forgot it, Betsey. You'll find a
ingun or two, and a little tea and sugar in his t'other pocket, my dear,
if you'll just be good enough to take 'em out.'
Betsey produced the property in question, together with some other
articles of general chandlery; and Mrs Gamp transferred them to her own
pocket, which was a species of nankeen pannier.
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