Zukatomeari
New Member
Posts: 11
Status: Offline
Joined:
pm
| | Great prospects (6th Dec 22 at 1:23am UTC) | | I had already begun to decorate my rooms, and I always decorated them in a very unnecessary and inappropriate way, especially the rooms at the Barnard Hotel, which cost a lot of money. Now these rooms are very different from when I first came, and I have the special honor of having a considerable credit in a nearby furniture store, which has occupied several pages of the project. My life has become more and more demanding, and not long ago I hired a little servant and made him wear a pair of high boots. Though a servant, I have to admit that since I hired him, I have been bound and enslaved by him. He is a little monster; he was nothing but a piece of junk in my washerwoman's house, but I hired him, and put him in a blue coat, a yellow waistcoat, a white cravat, cream breeches, and the high boots just mentioned, and found him some work every day, and gave him plenty to eat. He haunted me like a ghost, asking me every day to grant him these two terrible and unpleasant requests. I asked the ghost of the debt collector to stand on duty at eight o'clock on Tuesday morning in the hall (which was only two feet square and was remembered because it was recorded when the carpet was laid). Herbert suggested a few things for breakfast that he thought Joe would like. I thanked him heartily for his concern and thoughtfulness, though in my heart I was a little angry and suspicious that if Joe had come to see him,14 tube fitting, he would not have been so lively and active. Anyway, I was in town on Monday night, ready to meet Joe the next day. I got up early in the morning and arranged the living room and the breakfast table in a magnificent way. It was a pity that the weather did not cooperate. Early in the morning, there was a drizzle. Even if heaven sent angels, they could not hide the reality of the Barnard Hotel. There were tears outside the window. The tears were black, like the tears of a giant chimney sweeper. The appointed time was getting closer and closer, and I had long wanted to run away,ball valve manufacturer, but according to the regulations, the debt collector was in the hall. Soon I heard the sound of Joe's footsteps coming up the stairs, the sound of his clumsy feet coming up the stairs, and I knew it was him, because his boots were too big to go out, and he had to read the names of the residents on each floor. Finally, he came to the door of my suite. I heard him touch my name on the door with his finger, and then distinctly heard his breathing, which came through the keyhole. Then he tapped lightly on the door, and Pepper (a name I had tentatively given to the servant who collected the debt) announced, "Mr. Gargery!" I was wondering why he was rubbing himself on the doormat at the door, and I had to go out and pull him in, when he came in. Joe, 12 needle valve ,38 tube fitting, how are you, Joe? "Pip, how are you, Pip?" He threw his hat on the floor between us, and took hold of my hands and shook them to and fro as if I were a newly invented pump. How glad I am to see you, Joe. Give me your hat. But Joe picked it up carefully with both hands, and held it like a nest of eggs, unwilling to let the fortune leave his hands. He insisted on standing there holding his hat and talking to me. It was very awkward. "You've grown up now," said Joe. "You've put on weight now. You look more like a gentleman." Joe pondered for a moment before he came up with the following: "I'm sure you've been a credit to His Majesty and the country." "You look great, too, Joe." "By the grace of God," said Joe, "I'm all right. Your sister is still the same as before, neither good nor bad. Biddy will always be in good health and quick at work. Except for Wopsle, all the relatives and friends are neither too good nor too bad. Wopsle is out of luck. All this time he held his "nest of eggs" carefully, and his eyes rolled around the room, on the curlicue of my pajamas. He's out of luck, Joe. "Oh, yes," said Joe, lowering his voice, "he has left the church to act, and it was acting that brought him to London to go with me.
He said, "and Joe caught the bird's nest in his left crotch and put his right hand in it as if he were touching the bird's egg." I wonder if you'd mind having a look at this thing. " I took what Joe handed me. It was a crumpled playpaper from a small theatre in the great city of London. It said that the theatre would be performing this week by "a famous local amateur actor (whose reputation is comparable to that of the famous Roman comedian Rossio) on the stage, giving the greatest tragedy of Shakespeare, the saint of our country's poetry, which had caused a sensation in the local area." "Have you been to his show, Joe?" I asked. I've watched it. Said Joe in an emphatic and serious tone. Did it really cause a stir? "Well," said Joe, "well, he did lose a lot of orange peels, especially when he saw the ghost. If you were yourself, sir, you would think how you could make him feel at ease to play a good play by interrupting him with'Amen 'while he was in the company of ghosts? He may have had his share of misfortunes and church-affairs, "said Jo now, lowering her voice, in a tone of emotional discussion," but you have no reason to make mischief on such an occasion. I mean, if a man can't pay attention to his father's ghost, who can he pay attention to, sir? Besides, the mourning cap on his head was so small that it would easily fall off with black feathers, but he wore it firmly on his head. There was a sudden ghostly expression on Jo's face,38 needle valve, and I knew at a glance that Herbert had returned to the room, so I introduced them. Herbert held out his hand, but Joe drew it back and held on to the nest. chinaroke.com | |
|
