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CHAPTER 42: Illustrative of the convivial Sentiment... (continued)
'A wa'at for me?' cried John, as though he thought it must be a letter, or a parcel.
'A gen'l'man, sir.'
'Stars and garthers, chap!' said John, 'wa'at dost thou coom and say thot for? In wi' 'un.'
'Are you at home, sir?'
'At whoam!' cried John, 'I wish I wur; I'd ha tea'd two hour ago. Why, I told t'oother chap to look sharp ootside door, and tell 'un d'rectly he coom, thot we war faint wi' hoonger. In wi' 'un. Aha! Thee hond, Misther Nickleby. This is nigh to be the proodest day o' my life, sir. Hoo be all wi' ye? Ding! But, I'm glod o' this!'
Quite forgetting even his hunger in the heartiness of his salutation, John Browdie shook Nicholas by the hand again and again, slapping his palm with great violence between each shake, to add warmth to the reception.
'Ah! there she be,' said John, observing the look which Nicholas directed towards his wife. 'There she be--we shan't quarrel about her noo--eh? Ecod, when I think o' thot--but thou want'st soom'at to eat. Fall to, mun, fall to, and for wa'at we're aboot to receive--'
No doubt the grace was properly finished, but nothing more was heard, for John had already begun to play such a knife and fork, that his speech was, for the time, gone.
'I shall take the usual licence, Mr Browdie,' said Nicholas, as he placed a chair for the bride.
'Tak' whatever thou like'st,' said John, 'and when a's gane, ca' for more.'
Without stopping to explain, Nicholas kissed the blushing Mrs Browdie, and handed her to her seat.
'I say,' said John, rather astounded for the moment, 'mak' theeself quite at whoam, will 'ee?'
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