"Poor enough," assented Mr. Bucket, "and trouble enough, and well enough away from London, or anywhere else. I was regularly turned on my back when I found him taken up by your establishment, I do assure you."
I asked him why. "Why, my dear?" said Mr. Bucket. "Naturally there was no end to his tongue then. He might as well have been born with a yard and a half of it, and a remnant over."
Although I remember this conversation now, my head was in confusion at the time, and my power of attention hardly did more than enable me to understand that he entered into these particulars to divert me. With the same kind intention, manifestly, he often spoke to me of indifferent things, while his face was busy with the one object that we had in view. He still pursued this subject as we turned in at the garden-gate.

"Poor enough," assented Mr. Bucket, "and trouble enough. I was disturbed when I found him taken up by your establishment, I do assure you, for there was no end to his tongue. He might as well have been born with a yard and a half of it."
Although I remember this conversation now, my head was in confusion at the time. I understood, however, that he entered into these details to divert me. With the same kind intention, he spoke to me of indifferent things while we turned in at the garden-gate.
