'
'I ain't a makin' any, am I?' inquired Sam.
'Order, sir!' rejoined Mr. Weller, with severe dignity. Then,
sinking the chairman in the father, he added, in his usual tone of
voice: 'Samivel, drive on!'
Sam interchanged a smile with the housekeeper, and proceeded:
'The young hairdresser hadn't been in the habit o' makin' this
avowal above six months, ven he en-countered a young lady as wos
the wery picter o' the fairest dummy. "Now," he says, "it's all
up. I am a slave!" The young lady wos not only the picter o' the
fairest dummy, but she was wery romantic, as the young hairdresser
was, too, and he says, "O!" he says, "here's a community o'
feelin', here's a flow o' soul!" he says, "here's a interchange o'
sentiment!" The young lady didn't say much, o' course, but she
expressed herself agreeable, and shortly artervards vent to see him
vith a mutual friend. The hairdresser rushes out to meet her, but
d'rectly she sees the dummies she changes colour and falls a
tremblin' wiolently. "Look up, my love," says the hairdresser,
"behold your imige in my winder, but not correcter than in my art!"
"My imige!" she says. "Yourn!" replies the hairdresser. "But
whose imige is THAT?" she says, a pinting at vun o' the gen'lmen.
"No vun's, my love," he says, "it is but a idea." "A idea! " she
cries: "it is a portrait, I feel it is a portrait, and that 'ere
noble face must be in the millingtary!" "Wot do I hear!" says he,
a crumplin' his curls.
Pages:
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149