Betteredge held up
his hand, in token that he had not done yet.
"Not a word, Mr. Jennings!" he said, "It don't want a word, sir, from
you. I have got my principles, thank God. If an order comes to me, which
is own brother to an order come from Bedlam, it don't matter. So long
as I get it from my master or mistress, as the case may be, I obey it. I
may have my own opinion, which is also, you will please to remember, the
opinion of Mr. Bruff--the Great Mr. Bruff!" said Betteredge, raising his
voice, and shaking his head at me solemnly. "It don't matter; I withdraw
my opinion, for all that. My young lady says, 'Do it.' And I say, 'Miss,
it shall be done.' Here I am, with my book and my pencil--the latter not
pointed so well as I could wish, but when Christians take leave of their
senses, who is to expect that pencils will keep their points? Give
me your orders, Mr. Jennings. I'll have them in writing, sir. I'm
determined not to be behind 'em, or before 'em, by so much as a hair's
breadth. I'm a blind agent--that's what I am. A blind agent!" repeated
Betteredge, with infinite relish of his own description of himself.
"I am very sorry," I began, "that you and I don't agree----"
"Don't bring ME, into it!" interposed Betteredge.
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