“When I say I’ll do a thing, I do it,” said Mr. Creakle; “and when I say I will have a thing done, I will have it done.”
“—Will have a thing done, I will have it done,” repeated the man with the wooden leg.
“I am a determined character,” said Mr. Creakle. “That’s what I am. I do my duty. That’s what I do. My flesh and blood”—he
looked at Mrs. Creakle as he said this—“when it rises against me, is not my flesh and blood. I discard it. Has that fellow,” to the man with the wooden leg, “been here again?”
“No,” was the answer.
“No,” said Mr. Creakle. “He knows better. He knows me. Let him keep away. I say let him keep away,” said Mr. Creakle, striking his hand upon the table, and looking at Mrs. Creakle, “for he knows me. Now you have begun to know me too, my young friend, and you may go. Take him away.”
I was very glad to be ordered away, for Mrs. and Miss Creakle were both wiping their eyes, and I felt as uncomfortable for them, as I did for myself. But I had a petition on my mind which concerned me so nearly, that I couldn’t help saying, though I wondered at my own courage:
“If you please, sir——”
Mr. Creakle whispered, “Hah? What’s this?” and bent his eyes upon me, as if he would have burnt me up with them.
“If you please, sir,” I faltered, “if I might be allowed (I am very sorry indeed, sir, for what I did) to take this writing off, before the boys come back——”