'It's going to be fitted on a
ware'us-door in Thames Street.'
'Perhaps, as that is the case,' said Mr Chester, 'and as it has a
stronger flavour of oil than I usually refresh my bedroom with, you will
oblige me so far as to put it outside the door?'
'By all means, sir,' said Mr Tappertit, suiting the action to the word.
'You'll excuse my mentioning it, I hope?'
'Don't apologise, sir, I beg. And now, if you please, to business.'
During the whole of this dialogue, Mr Chester had suffered nothing but
his smile of unvarying serenity and politeness to appear upon his face.
Sim Tappertit, who had far too good an opinion of himself to suspect
that anybody could be playing upon him, thought within himself that
this was something like the respect to which he was entitled, and drew
a comparison from this courteous demeanour of a stranger, by no means
favourable to the worthy locksmith.
'From what passes in our house,' said Mr Tappertit, 'I am aware, sir,
that your son keeps company with a young lady against your inclinations.
Sir, your son has not used me well.'
'Mr Tappertit,' said the other, 'you grieve me beyond description.'
'Thank you, sir,' replied the 'prentice.
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