I ain't a-goin' to leave this house, old feller,
and shall I tell you why? The house is my house, every stick of
furnitur' in it is mine, excep' _your_ old traps, and your
shower-bath, and your wig-box. I've bought the place, I tell you, with
my own industry and perseverance. I can show a hundred pound, where
you can show a fifty, or your damned supersellious nephew either. I've
served you honorable, done every thing for you these dozen years, and
I'm a dog, am I? I'm a beast, am I? That's the language for gentlemen,
not for our rank. But I'll bear it no more. I throw up your service;
I'm tired on it; I've combed your old wig and buckled your old girths
and waistbands long enough, I tell you. Don't look savage at me, I'm
sitting in my own chair, in my own room, a-telling the truth to
you. I'll be your beast, and your brute, and your dog, no more, Major
Pendennis AlfPay."
The fury of the old gentleman, met by the servant's abrupt revolt, had
been shocked and cooled by the concussion, as much as if a sudden
shower-bath or a pail of cold water had been flung upon him.
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