Hoopdriver, proceeding with his
discourse, and suddenly growing extremely fierce, "made a remark
as we went by this door."
"Steady on!" said the old gentleman with many chins. ,Steady on!
Don't you go a-calling us names, please."
"One minute!" said Mr. Hoopdriver. "It wasn't I began calling
names." ("Who did? said the man with the chins.) "I'm not calling
any of you dirty cads. Don't run away with that impression. Only
some person in this room made a remark that showed he wasn't fit
to wipe boots on, and, with all due deference to such gentlemen
as ARE gentlemen" (Mr. Hoopdriver looked round for moral
support), "I want to know which it was."
"Meanin'?" said the fair young man in the white tie.
"That I'm going to wipe my boots on 'im straight away," said Mr.
Hoopdriver, reverting to anger, if with a slight catch in his
throat--than which threat of personal violence nothing had been
further from his thoughts on entering the room. He said this
because he could think of nothing else to say, and stuck out his
elbows truculently to hide the sinking of his heart. It is
curious how situations run away with us.
"'Ullo, Charlie!" said the little man, and "My eye!" said the
owner of the chins. 'You're going to wipe your boots on 'im?"
said the fair young man, in a tone of mild surprise.
"I am," said Mr. Hoopdriver, with emphatic resolution, and glared
in the young man's face.
"That's fair and reasonable," said the man in the velveteen
jacket; "if you can.
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