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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

"Barnaby Rudge: a tale of the Riots of 'eighty"

Mr Tappertit, I shall expect you to invite me to dinner
when you are Lord Mayor of London.'
'Sir,' returned the 'prentice, laying down his hammer, and rubbing
his nose on the back of a very sooty hand, 'I scorn the Lord Mayor and
everything that belongs to him. We must have another state of society,
sir, before you catch me being Lord Mayor. How de do, sir?'
'The better, Mr Tappertit, for looking into your ingenuous face once
more. I hope you are well.'
'I am as well, sir,' said Sim, standing up to get nearer to his ear, and
whispering hoarsely, 'as any man can be under the aggrawations to which
I am exposed. My life's a burden to me. If it wasn't for wengeance, I'd
play at pitch and toss with it on the losing hazard.'
'Is Mrs Varden at home?' said Mr Chester.
'Sir,' returned Sim, eyeing him over with a look of concentrated
expression,--'she is. Did you wish to see her?'
Mr Chester nodded.
'Then come this way, sir,' said Sim, wiping his face upon his apron.
'Follow me, sir.--Would you permit me to whisper in your ear, one half a
second?'
'By all means.'
Mr Tappertit raised himself on tiptoe, applied his lips to Mr Chester's
ear, drew back his head without saying anything, looked hard at
him, applied them to his ear again, again drew back, and finally
whispered--'The name is Joseph Willet.


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