Peace, good pintpot. Peace, good ticklebrain.
It was a regular Barnaby dance; I'd never seen anyone move so quickly. Before the culprit bolted out the door into the night,
And then again in a mighty bustle he bandied it, slubbered it, hacked it, whittled it, wayed it, […] tugged it, tewed it, carried it, bedashed it, […]that it was ten thousand to one he had not structk the bottom of it out.
One lacquey carried the chocolate-pot into the sacred presence; a second, milled and frothed the chocolate with the little instrument he bore for that function; a third, presented the favoured napkin; a fourth (he of the two gold watches), poured the chocolate out.
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