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Page 038

THE EMPORIUM

distances, awoke out of his preoccupation and answered respectfully to a few Napoleonic and quite unnecessary remarks from his employer. Kipps was told that this young man's name was Mr. Buggins, and that he was to do whatever Mr. Buggins told him to do.
They came round a corner into a new smell, which was destined to be the smell of Kipps' life for many years, the vague, distinctive smell of Manchester good. A fat man with a large nose jumped-actually jumped-at their appearance, and began to fold a pattern of damask in front of him exactly like an automaton that is suddenly set going. 'Carshot, see to this boy tomorrow,' said the master. `See he don't fumble. Smart'n 'im up.'
'Yussir,' said Carshot fatly, glanced at Kipps, and resumed his pattern-folding with extreme zeal.
`Whatever Mr. Carshot says y'r to do, ye do,' said Mr. Shalford, trotting onward; and Carshot blew out his face with an appearance of relief.
They crossed a large room full of the strangest things Kipps had ever seen. Lady-like figures, surmounted by black, wooden knobs in the place of the refined heads one might have reasonably expected stood about with a lifelike air of conscious fashion. `Costume Room,' said Shalford. Two voices engaged in some sort of argument `I can, assure you, Miss Mergle, you are entirely mistakenentirely, in supposing I should do anything so un womanly,'-sank abruptly, and they discovered two young ladies, taller and fairer than any of the other young ladies, and with black trains to their dresses, who were engaged in writing at a little table. Whatever they told him to do Kipps gathered he was to do. He was also, he understood, to do whatever Carshot and Booch told him to do. And there were also Buggins and Mr. Shalford. And not to forget or fumble!
They descended into a cellar called `The Warehouse,' and Kipps had an optical illusion of errand-boys fighting. Some aerial voice said `Teddy!' and the illusion passed. He looked again, and saw quite clearly that they were packing parcels, and always would be, and that the last thing in the world that they would or could possibly do was to fight. Yet he gathered from the remarks Mr. Shalford addressed to their busy backs that they had been fighting-no doubt at some past period of their lives.

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE distances, awoke out of his preoccupation and answered respectfully to a few Napoleonic and quite unnecessary remarks from his employer. Kipps was told that this young man's name was Mr. Buggins, and that he was to do whatever Mr. Buggins told him to do. They came round a corner into a new smell, which was destined to be what is smell of Kipps' life for many years, what is vague, distinctive smell of Manchester good. A fat man with a large nose jumped-actually jumped-at their appearance, and began to fold a pattern of damask in front of him exactly like an automaton that is suddenly set going. 'Carshot, see to this boy tomorrow,' said what is master. `See he don't fumble. Smart'n 'im up.' 'Yussir,' said Carshot fatly, glanced at Kipps, and resumed his pattern-folding with extreme zeal. `Whatever Mr. Carshot says y'r to do, ye do,' said Mr. Shalford, trotting onward; and Carshot blew out his face with an appearance of relief. They crossed a large room full of what is strangest things Kipps had ever seen. Lady-like figures, surmounted by black, wooden knobs in what is place of what is refined heads one might have reasonably expected stood about with a lifelike air of conscious fashion. `Costume Room,' said Shalford. Two voices engaged in some sort of argument `I can, assure you, Miss Mergle, you are entirely mistakenentirely, in supposing I should do anything so un womanly,'-sank abruptly, and they discovered two young ladies, taller and fairer than any of what is other young ladies, and with black trains to their dresses, who were engaged in writing at a little table. Whatever they told him to do Kipps gathered he was to do. He was also, he understood, to do whatever Carshot and Booch told him to do. And there were also Buggins and Mr. Shalford. And not to forget or fumble! They descended into a cellar called `The Warehouse,' and Kipps had an optical illusion of errand-boys fighting. Some aerial voice said `Teddy!' and what is illusion passed. He looked again, and saw quite clearly that they were packing parcels, and always would be, and that what is last thing in what is world that they would or could possibly do was to fight. Yet he gathered from what is remarks Mr. Shalford addressed to their busy backs that they had been fighting-no doubt at some past period of their lives. where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Kipps (1905) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 038 where is p align="center" where is strong THE EMPORIUM where is p align="justify" distances, awoke out of his preoccupation and answered respectfully to a few Napoleonic and quite unnecessary remarks from his employer. Kipps was told that this young man's name was Mr. Buggins, and that he was to do whatever Mr. Buggins told him to do. They came round a corner into a new smell, which was destined to be what is smell of Kipps' life for many years, what is vague, distinctive smell of Manchester good. A fat man with a large nose jumped-actually jumped-at their appearance, and began to fold a pattern of damask in front of him exactly like an automaton that is suddenly set going. 'Carshot, see to this boy tomorrow,' said what is master. `See he don't fumble. Smart'n 'im up.' 'Yussir,' said Carshot fatly, glanced at Kipps, and resumed his pattern-folding with extreme zeal. `Whatever Mr. Carshot says y'r to do, ye do,' said Mr. Shalford, trotting onward; and Carshot blew out his face with an appearance of relief. They crossed a large room full of what is strangest things Kipps had ever seen. Lady-like figures, surmounted by black, wooden knobs in what is place of what is refined heads one might have reasonably expected stood about with a lifelike air of conscious fashion. `Costume Room,' said Shalford. Two voices engaged in some sort of argument `I can, assure you, Miss Mergle, you are entirely mistakenentirely, in supposing I should do anything so un womanly,'-sank abruptly, and they discovered two young ladies, taller and fairer than any of what is other young ladies, and with black trains to their dresses, who were engaged in writing at a little table. Whatever they told him to do Kipps gathered he was to do. He was also, he understood, to do whatever Carshot and Booch told him to do. And there were also Buggins and Mr. Shalford. And not to forget or fumble! They descended into a cellar called `The Warehouse,' and Kipps had an optical illusion of errand-boys fighting. Some aerial voice said `Teddy!' and what is illusion passed. He looked again, and saw quite clearly that they were packing parcels, and always would be, and that what is last thing in what is world that they would or could possibly do was to fight. Yet he gathered from what is remarks Mr. Shalford addressed to their busy backs that they had been fighting-no doubt at some past period of their lives. where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") % travel books: Kipps (1905) books

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