We ate the whole of the toast, and drank tea in proportion, and it
was delightful to see how warm and greasy we all got after it. The
Aged especially, might have passed for some clean old chief of a
savage tribe, just oiled. After a short pause of repose, Miss
Skiffins--in the absence of the little servant who, it seemed,
retired to the bosom of her family on Sunday afternoons--washed up
the tea-things, in a trifling lady-like amateur manner that
compromised none of us. Then, she put on her gloves again, and we
drew round the fire, and Wemmick said, "Now, Aged Parent, tip us the
paper."
Wemmick explained to me while the Aged got his spectacles out, that
this was according to custom, and that it gave the old gentleman
infinite satisfaction to read the news aloud. "I won't offer an
apology," said Wemmick, "for he isn't capable of many pleasures--
are you, Aged P.?"
"All right, John, all right," returned the old man, seeing himself
spoken to.
"Only tip him a nod every now and then when he looks off his
paper," said Wemmick, "and he'll be as happy as a king. We are all
attention, Aged One."
"All right, John, all right!" returned the cheerful old man, so
busy and so pleased, that it really was quite charming.
The Aged's reading reminded me of the classes at Mr.
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