”
“Bless me!” said Mr. Deane, judiciously introducing a new idea, “why, now I come to think of it, somebody said Wakem was going to send his son — the deformed lad — to a clergyman,PJS Dameklær Denali Dunjakker, didn’t they,Moncler Virgile, Susan?” (appealing to his wife).
“I can give no account of it,Fox Fur Czyścibut 5531, I’m sure,” said Mrs. Deane, closing her lips very tightly again. Mrs. Deane was not a woman to take part in a scene where missiles were flying.
“Well,” said Mr. Tulliver,Stripes Yd, speaking all the more cheerfully, that Mrs. Glegg might see he didn’t mind her, “if Wakem thinks o’ sending his son to a clergyman,Menn Moncler Chimay Knitting, depend on it I shall make no mistake i’ sending Tom to one. Wakem’s as big a scoundrel as Old Harry ever made, but he knows the length of every man’s foot he’s got to deal with. Ay, ay, tell me who’s Wakem’s butcher, and I’ll tell you where to get your meat.”
“But lawyer Wakem’s son’s got a hump-back,” said Mrs. Pullet, who felt as if the whole business had a funereal aspect; “it’s more nat’ral to send him to a clergyman.”
“Yes,Bailey Button Czyścibut 5991,” said Mr. Glegg,Edinson Cavani Drakt, interpreting Mrs. Pullet’s observation with erroneous plausibility, “you must consider that, neighbor Tulliver; Wakem’s son isn’t likely to follow any business. Wakem ‘ull make a gentleman of him, poor fellow.”
“Mr. Glegg,” said Mrs. G., in a tone which implied that her indignation would fizz and ooze a little,Ženy Moncler Bunda, though she was determined to keep it corked up, “you’d far better hold your tongue. Mr. Tulliver doesn’t want to know your opinion nor mine either. There’s folks in the world as know better than everybody else.”
“Why, I should think that’s you,Mario Gotze Drakt, if we’re to trust your own tale,” said Mr. Tulliver, beginning to boil up again.
“Oh, I say nothing,” said Mrs. Glegg, sarcastically. “My advice has never been asked, and I don’t give it.”
“It’ll be the first time, then,Dame Moncler Safran,” said Mr. Tulliver. “It’s the only thing you’re over-ready at giving.”
“I’ve been over-ready at lending, then, if I haven’t been over-ready at giving,” said Mrs. Glegg. “There’s folks I’ve lent money to,Nottingham Forest Drakt, as perhaps I shall repent o’ lending money to kin.”
“Come, come, come,” said Mr. Glegg, soothingly. But Mr. Tulliver was not to be hindered of his retort.
“You’ve got a bond for it, I reckon,” he said; “and you’ve had your five per cent, kin or no kin.”
“Sister,” said Mrs. Tulliver, pleadingly, “drink your wine, and let me give you some almonds and raisins.”
“Bessy,Angel di Maria Drakt, I’m sorry for you,” said Mrs. Glegg, very much with the feeling of a cur that seizes the opportunity of diverting his bark toward the man who carries no stick. “It’s poor work talking o’ almonds and raisins.”
“Lors, sister Glegg, don’t be so quarrelsome,” said Mrs. Pullet, beginning to cry a little. “You may be struck with a fit, getting so red in the face after dinner, and we are but just out o’ mourning, all of us — and all wi’ gowns craped alike and just put by
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