ady wi’ a cork leg, but as sharp — you wouldn’t catch her runnin’ her head into a sack; she’d see her way clear out o’ anything afore she’d be in a hurry to start. Well, she let out thirty pound to a young man in the drapering line,Ženy Barbour Waxed Bunda, and he laid it out i’ Laceham goods, an’ a shupercargo o’ my acquinetance (not Salt) took ’em out, an’ she got her eight per zent fust go off; an’ now you can’t hold her but she must be sendin’ out carguies wi’ every ship, till she’s gettin’ as rich as a Jew. Bucks her name is, she doesn’t live i’ this town. Now then,Tyskland Drakt Barn, mum, if you’ll please to give me the net ——”
“Here’s fifteen shilling, then,Moncler Monica, for the two,” said Mrs. Glegg. “But it’s a shameful price.”
“Nay, mum, you’ll niver say that when you’re upo’ your knees i’ church i’ five years’ time. I’m makin’ you a present o’ th’ articles; I am, indeed. That eightpence shaves off my profits as clean as a razor. Now then,Real Madrid Drakt, sir,Luxury Boulder,” continued Bob, shouldering his pack, “if you please, I’ll be glad to go and see about makin’ Mr. Tom’s fortin. Eh,Bayern Munich Drakt, I wish I’d got another twenty pound to lay out my_sen; I shouldn’t stay to say my Catechism afore I knowed what to do wi’t.”
“Stop a bit, Mr. Glegg,Manchester United Drakt Damer,” said the lady, as her husband took his hat, “you never will give me the chance o’ speaking. You’ll go away now, and finish everything about this business, and come back and tell me it’s too late for me to speak. As if I wasn’t my nephey’s own aunt,NBA Hatter, and the head o’ the family on his mother’s side! and laid by guineas, all full weight,Utah Jazz Drakter, for him, as he’ll know who to respect when I’m laid in my coffin.”
“Well, Mrs. G., say what you mean,” said Mr. G., hastily.
“Well, then,Moncler Mari, I desire as nothing may be done without my knowing. I don’t say as I sha’n’t venture twenty pounds, if you make out as everything’s right and safe. And if I do, Tom,” concluded Mrs. Glegg,Gareth Bale Drakt, turning impressively to her nephew, “I hope you’ll allays bear it in mind and be grateful for such an aunt. I mean you to pay me interest, you know; I don’t approve o’ giving; we niver looked for that in my family.”
“Thank you, aunt,” said Tom, rather proudly. “I prefer having the money only lent to me.”
“Very well; that’s the Dodson sperrit,” said Mrs. Glegg,Belstaff Staple Bunda, rising to get her knitting with the sense that any further remark after this would be bathos.
Salt — that eminently “briny chap”— having been discovered in a cloud of tobacco-smoke at the Anchor Tavern, Mr. Glegg commenced inquiries which turned out satisfactorily enough to warrant the advance of the “nest-egg,” to which aunt Glegg contributed twenty pounds; and in this modest beginning you see the ground of a fact which might otherwise surprise you; namely, Tom’s accumulation of a fund, unknown to his father, that promised in no very long time to meet the more tardy process of saving, and quite cover the deficit. When once his attention had been turned to
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