I lived with this strange old man for six weeks. I kept his books, and did what little I could to make myself useful: carrying about boots and shoes, as if I had never borne his Majesty's commission. He gave me no money, but he fed and lodged me comfortably. The men and boys used to laugh, and call me General, and Lord Cornwallis, and all sorts of nicknames; and old Stiffelkind made a thousand new ones for me.
One day I can recollect—one miserable day, as I was polishing on the trees a pair of boots of Mr. Stiffelkind's manufacture—the old gentleman came into the shop, with a lady on his arm.
“Vere is Gaptain Stobbs?” said he. “Vere is dat ornament to his Majesty's service?”
I came in from the back shop, where I was polishing the boots, with one of them in my hand.
“Look, my dear,” says he, “here is an old friend of yours, his Excellency Lort Cornvallis!—Who would have thought such a nobleman vood turn shoeblack? Captain Stobbs, here is your former flame, my dear niece, Miss Grotty. How could you, Magdalen, ever leaf such a lof of a man? Shake hands vid her, Gaptain;—dere, never mind de blacking!” But Miss drew back.
“I never shake hands with a SHOEBLACK,” said she, mighty contemptuous.
“Bah! my lof, his fingers von't soil you. Don't you know he has just been VITEVASHED?”
“I wish, uncle,” says she, “you would not leave me with such low people.”
“Low, because he cleans boots? De Gaptain prefers PUMPS to boots I tink—ha! ha!”
“Captain indeed! a nice Captain,” says Miss Crutty, snapping her fingers in my face, and walking away: “a Captain who has had his nose pulled! ha! ha!”—And how could I help it? it wasn't by my own CHOICE that that ruffian Waters took such liberties with me. Didn't I show how averse I was to all quarrels by refusing altogether his challenge?—But such is the world. And thus the people at Stiffelkind's used to tease me, until they drove me almost mad.