"You see, Mr. Snagsby," says Mr. Bucket, accompanying him to the door and shaking hands with him over and over again, "what I like in you is that you're a man it's of no use pumping; that's what YOU are. When you know you have done a right thing, you put it away, and it's done with and gone, and there's an end of it. That's what YOU do."
"That is certainly what I endeavour to do, sir," returns Mr. Snagsby.
"No, you don't do yourself justice. It an't what you endeavour to do," says Mr. Bucket, shaking hands with him and blessing him in the tenderest manner, "it's what you DO. That's what I estimate in a man in your way of business."
Mr. Snagsby makes a suitable response and goes homeward so confused by the events of the evening that he is doubtful of his being awake and out--doubtful of the reality of the streets through which he goes--doubtful of the reality of the moon that shines above him. He is presently reassured on these subjects by the unchallengeable reality of Mrs. Snagsby, sitting up with her head in a perfect beehive of curl-papers and night-cap, who has dispatched Guster to the police-station with official intelligence of her husband's being made away with, and who within the last two hours has passed through every stage of swooning with the greatest decorum. But as the little woman feelingly says, many thanks she gets for it!
"You see, Mr. Snagsby," says Mr. Bucket, accompanying him to the door and shaking hands with him, "what I like in you is that when you know you have done a right thing, you put it away, and there's an end of it. That's what you do."
"That is certainly what I try to do, sir," returns Mr. Snagsby.
"No, you don't do yourself justice. It an't what you try to do," says Mr. Bucket, still shaking hands, "it's what you do."
Mr. Snagsby makes a suitable response and goes homeward so confused by the events of the evening that he is doubtful of his being awake - doubtful of the reality of the streets through which he goes. He is presently reassured by the unchallengeable reality of Mrs. Snagsby, sitting up with her head in a perfect beehive of curl-papers and night-cap. She has dispatched Guster to the police-station to tell them her husband has been made away with, and within the last two hours has passed through every stage of swooning. But as the little woman feelingly says, many thanks she gets for it!