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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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710 charge for dooble-latthers. A Poast Office! Wa’at dost thee think o’ thot? ’Ecod, if thot’s on’y a Poast Office, I’d loike to see where the Lord Mayor o’ Lunnun lives.’ So saying, John Browdie--for he it was--opened the coach- door, and tapping Mrs Browdie, late Miss Price, on the cheek as he looked in, burst into a boisterous fit of laughter. ‘Weel!’ said John. ‘Dang my bootuns if she bean’t asleep agean!’ ‘She’s been asleep all night, and was, all yesterday, except for a minute or two now and then,’ replied John Browdie’s choice, ‘and I was very sorry when she woke, for she has been so cross!’ The subject of these remarks was a slumbering figure, so muffled in shawl and cloak, that it would have been matter of impossibility to guess at its sex but for a brown beaver bonnet and green veil which ornamented the head, and which, having been crushed and flattened, for two hundred and fifty miles, in that particular angle of the vehicle from which the lady’s snores now proceeded, presented an appearance sufficiently ludicrous to have moved less risible muscles than those of John Browdie’s ruddy face. ‘Hollo!’ cried John, twitching one end of the dragged veil. ‘Coom, wakken oop, will ’ee?’ After several burrowings into the old corner, and many exclamations of impatience and fatigue, the figure struggled into a sitting posture; and there, under a mass of crumpled beaver, and surrounded by a semicircle of blue curl-papers, were the delicate features of Miss Fanny Squeers. ‘Oh, ’Tilda!’ cried Miss Squeers, ‘how you have been kicking of me through this blessed night!’ ‘Well, I do like that,’ replied her friend, laughing, ‘when you |
