The Pickwick Papers


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'
Now,' said Jack Hopkins, 'just to set us going again, Bob, I don't mind  
singing a song.' And Hopkins, incited thereto by tumultuous  
applause, plunged himself at once into 'The King, God bless him,'  
which he sang as loud as he could, to a novel air, compounded of the  
'
Bay of Biscay,' and 'A Frog he would.' The chorus was the essence of  
the song; and, as each gentleman sang it to the tune he knew best,  
the effect was very striking indeed.  
It was at the end of the chorus to the first verse, that Mr Pickwick held  
up his hand in a listening attitude, and said, as soon as silence was  
restored -  
'Hush! I beg your pardon. I thought I heard somebody calling from  
upstairs.'  
A profound silence immediately ensued; and Mr Bob Sawyer was  
observed to turn pale.  
'
I think I hear it now,' said Mr Pickwick. 'Have the goodness to open  
the door.'  
The door was no sooner opened than all doubt on the subject was  
removed.  
'
'
Mr Sawyer! Mr Sawyer!' screamed a voice from the two-pair landing.  
It's my landlady,' said Bob Sawyer, looking round him with great  
dismay. 'Yes, Mrs. Raddle.'  
'
What do you mean by this, Mr Sawyer?' replied the voice, with great  
shrillness and rapidity of utterance. 'Ain't it enough to be swindled out  
of one's rent, and money lent out of pocket besides, and abused and  
insulted by your friends that dares to call themselves men, without  
having the house turned out of the window, and noise enough made  
to bring the fire-engines here, at two o'clock in the morning? - Turn  
them wretches away.'  
'You ought to be ashamed of yourselves,' said the voice of Mr Raddle,  
which appeared to proceed from beneath some distant bed-clothes.  
'Ashamed of themselves!' said Mrs. Raddle. 'Why don't you go down  
and knock 'em every one downstairs? You would if you was a man.' 'I  
should if I was a dozen men, my dear,' replied Mr Raddle pacifically,  
'but they have the advantage of me in numbers, my dear.'  
'
Ugh, you coward!' replied Mrs. Raddle, with supreme contempt. 'DO  
you mean to turn them wretches out, or not, Mr Sawyer?'  


Page
439 440 441 442 443

Quick Jump
1 198 396 594 792