Nothing easier. Mr. and Mrs. Bagnet both engage to have the requisite information ready and even hint to each other at the practicability of having a small stock collected there for approval.
“Thank you,” says Mr. Bucket, “thank you. Good night, ma’am. Good night, governor. Good night, darlings. I am much obliged to you for one of the pleasantest evenings I ever spent in my life.”
They, on the contrary, are much obliged to him for the pleasure he has given them in his company; and so they part with many expressions of goodwill on both sides. “Now George, old boy,” says Mr. Bucket, taking his arm at the shop-door, “come along!” As they go down the little street and the Bagnets pause for a minute looking after them, Mrs. Bagnet remarks to the worthy Lignum that Mr. Bucket “almost clings to George like, and seems to be really fond of him.”
The neighbouring streets being narrow and ill-paved, it is a little inconvenient to walk there two abreast and arm in arm. Mr. George therefore soon proposes to walk singly. But Mr. Bucket, who cannot make up his mind to relinquish his friendly hold, replies, “Wait half a minute, George. I should wish to speak to you first.” Immediately afterwards, he twists him into a public-house and into a parlour, where he confronts him and claps his own back against the door.
“Now, George,” says Mr. Bucket, “duty is duty, and friendship is friendship. I never want the two to clash if I can help it. I have endeavoured to make things pleasant tonight, and I put it to you whether I have done it or not. You must consider yourself in custody, George.”
“Custody? What for?” returns the trooper, thunderstruck.
“Now, George,” says Mr. Bucket, urging a sensible view of the case upon him with his fat forefinger, “duty, as you know very well, is one thing,