|
||||||||
What does this unmannerly boy mean, asked Mr Gradgrind, eyeing him in a sort of desperation, by Tight-Jeff? There! Get out, get out! said Mr Childers, thrusting his young friend from the room, rather in the prairie manner. Tight-Jeff or Slack-Jeff, it dont much signify: its only tight-rope or slack-rope. You were going to give me a message for Jupe? Yes, I was. Then, continued Mr Childers, quickly, my opinion is, he will never receive it. Do you know much of him? I never saw the man in my life. I doubt if you ever will see him now. Its pretty plain to me, hes off. Do you mean that he has deserted his daughter? Ay! I mean, said Mr Childers, with a nod, that he has cut. He was goosed last night, he was goosed the night before last, he was goosed today. He has lately got in the way of being always goosed, and he cant stand it. Why has he been so very much Goosed? asked Mr Gradgrind, forcing the word out of himself, with great solemnity and reluctance. His joints are turning stiff, and he is getting used up, said Childers. He has his points as a Cackler still, but he cant get a living out of them. A Cackler! Bounderby repeated. Here we go again! A speaker, if the gentleman likes it better, said Mr E. W. B. Childers, superciliously throwing the interpretation over his shoulder, and accompanying it with a shake of his long hair which all shook at once. Now, its a remarkable fact, sir, that it cut that man deeper, to know that his daughter knew of his being goosed, than to go through with it. Good! interrupted Mr Bounderby. This is good, Gradgrind! A man so fond of his daughter, that he runs away from her! This is devilish good! Ha! ha! Now, Ill tell you what, young man. I havent always occupied my present station of life. I know what these things are. You may be astonished to hear it, but my mother ran away from me. E. W. B. Childers replied pointedly, that he was not at all astonished to hear it. Very well, said Bounderby. I was born in a ditch and my mother ran away from me. Do I excuse her for it? No. Have I ever excused her for it? Not I. What do I call her for it? I call her probably the very worst woman that ever lived in the world, except my drunken grandmother. Theres no family pride about me, theres no imaginative sentimental humbug about me. I call a spade a spade; and I call the mother of Josiah Bounderby of Coketown, without any fear or any favour, what I should call her if she had been the mother of Dick Jones of Wapping. So, with this man. He is a runaway rogue and a vagabond, thats what he is, in English. Its all the same to me what he is or what he is not, whether in English or whether in French, retorted Mr E. W. B. Childers, facing about. I am telling your friend whats the fact; if you dont like to hear it, you can avail yourself of the open air. You give it mouth enough, you do; but give it mouth in your own building at least, remonstrated E. W. B. with stern irony. Dont give it mouth in this building, till youre called upon. You have got some building of your own, I dare say, now? |
||||||||
|
||||||||
|
||||||||
Copyright: All texts on Bibliomania are © Bibliomania.com Ltd, and may not be reproduced in any form without our written permission. See our FAQ for more details. | ||||||||