'Coom,' retorted John, 'thot's tidy in you, thot is. If it wa'nt along
o' you, we shouldn't know nought aboot 'un. Thou know'd 'un first,
Tilly, didn't thou?'
'I couldn't help knowing Fanny Squeers, John,' returned his wife; 'she
was an old playmate of mine, you know.'
'Weel,' replied John, 'dean't I say so, lass? It's best to be
neighbourly, and keep up old acquaintance loike; and what I say is,
dean't quarrel if 'ee can help it. Dinnot think so, Mr Nickleby?'
'Certainly,' returned Nicholas; 'and you acted upon that principle when
I meet you on horseback on the road, after our memorable evening.'
'Sure-ly,' said John. 'Wa'at I say, I stick by.'
'And that's a fine thing to do, and manly too,' said Nicholas, 'though
it's not exactly what we understand by "coming Yorkshire over us" in
London. Miss Squeers is stopping with you, you said in your note.'
'Yes,' replied John, 'Tilly's bridesmaid; and a queer bridesmaid she be,
too. She wean't be a bride in a hurry, I reckon.'
'For shame, John,' said Mrs Browdie; with an acute perception of the
joke though, being a bride herself.
'The groom will be a blessed mun,' said John, his eyes twinkling at the
idea.
Pages:
960
961
962
963
964
965
966
967
968
969
970
971
972
973
974
975
976
977
978
979
980
981
982
983
984