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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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my poor dear mother thought him so too. We went to an hotel by the sea, where two gentlemen were smoking cigars in a room by themselves. Each of them was lying on at least four chairs, and had a large rough jacket on. In a corner was a heap of coats and boat-cloaks, and a flag, all bundled up together. They both rolled on to their feet in an untidy sort of manner, when we came in, and said, 'Halloa, Murdstone! We thought you were dead!' 'Not yet,' said Mr. Murdstone. 'And who's this shaver?' said one of the gentlemen, taking hold of me. 'That's Davy,' returned Mr. Murdstone. 'Davy who?' said the gentleman. 'Jones?' 'Copperfield,' said Mr. Murdstone. 'What! Bewitching Mrs. Copperfield's encumbrance?' cried the gentleman. 'The pretty little widow?' 'Quinion,' said Mr. Murdstone, 'take care, if you please. Somebody's sharp.' 'Who is?' asked the gentleman, laughing. I looked up, quickly; being curious to know. 'Only Brooks of Sheffield,' said Mr. Murdstone. I was quite relieved to find that it was only Brooks of Sheffield; for, at first, I really thought it was I. There seemed to be something very comical in the reputation of Mr. Brooks of Sheffield, for both the gentlemen laughed heartily when he was mentioned, and Mr. Murdstone was a good deal amused also. After some laughing, the gentleman whom he had called Quinion, said: 'And what is the opinion of Brooks of Sheffield, in reference to the projected business?' |
