'Isn't it customary to leave the amount open?
Mightn't it have had the appearance, to the young gentleman--only
the appearance--that he was rather dictated to?'
'Look'ee here, deary,' she replies, in a confidential and
persuasive tone, 'I wanted the money to lay it out on a medicine as
does me good, and as I deal in. I told the young gentleman so, and
he gave it me, and I laid it out honest to the last brass farden.
I want to lay out the same sum in the same way now; and if you'll
give it me, I'll lay it out honest to the last brass farden again,
upon my soul!'
'What's the medicine?'
'I'll be honest with you beforehand, as well as after. It's
opium.'
Mr. Datchery, with a sudden change of countenance, gives her a
sudden look.
'It's opium, deary. Neither more nor less. And it's like a human
creetur so far, that you always hear what can be said against it,
but seldom what can be said in its praise.'
Mr. Datchery begins very slowly to count out the sum demanded of
him. Greedily watching his hands, she continues to hold forth on
the great example set him.
'It was last Christmas Eve, just arter dark, the once that I was
here afore, when the young gentleman gave me the three-and-six.'
Mr. Datchery stops in his counting, finds he has counted wrong,
shakes his money together, and begins again.
'And the young gentleman's name,' she adds, 'was Edwin.'
Mr.
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