Now , that 's what I call the real thing — the clean grit . The position of that bokeyis such , that none but the purest taste could conceive ,— those camellias , chastity itself . A fine combination ! Cutting the turnips and carrots to make ornaments for the cold tongue ; chusing the bokies at Covent Garden Market ; mildly tempering the brilliant light of wax and gas with the soothing hue of flowers . I have brought all my arts to bear upon this sworry . The party who is a greengrocer in the morning , is the only perfect waiter in the evening . Yes , Miss Agatha ; without exaggeration I may venture to say , we are lit up . No , Miss Agatha , he has not — since he left the house at two in the afternoon — I have n't the slightest notion where he is gone . No — though I did my best to ascertain ;— “ Are you going far , sir ? ” says I . He stares , and he makes me no answer . “ Shall you be long , sir ? ” says I . He stares again , and again he makes no answer . “ Because sir , ” says I , “ there 's the party this evening ! ” “ I know that , better than you do , ” says he , “ for I shall have to pay for it ! ” — just like him , Miss Agatha — ha , ha , ha ! I hope you admire the bokies , Miss Agatha ; them camellias are quite the thing , I flatter myself ;— all my taste — ha ! ha ! You 'll be called to-morrow the Lady of the Camellias ! Now , I thought I had said something very pretty — but she do n't look pleased . On the contrary , Miss Agatha — I 'm sorry to differ from you , but I rather think one has arrived , and is coffee-ing in the back parlor ;— here he is , too ! Watch in an umbrella — come , that 's not bad !— ho , ho , ho ! Which it is capital !— just like you , sir . Thwaites , at your service , sir . Cards ai n't common in our business ; but my address is —— And I 'll listen if you talk for an hour . If I take up the newspaper , is it to read about politics ? No ! About plays ?— No , I should rather think not ! About pictures ? bother , no ! I look to see if Mr. Whitewash has been saying something for some poor devil in the Central Criminal Court . That 's my intellectual treat ! That 's the man of money . Give me the man of mind ! Mr. Pawkins ! Please , sir , the parties which is in t'other room can n't get on without you . At your service , sir . Yes , sir : I do n't think him much ‘ count , sir . No ! Yes , sir ! The deuce ! Ca n't be done , sir ; can n't be done . Gov'ner orders the contrary . Mr. Ferguson . So , Mr. Pawkins , it was Mrs. Ferguson 's Jemima , was it ? Are you aware , sir , that I pay my attentions in that quarter ? Are you aware that I 'm Thwaites ? Please , sir , a knowin ’ party , as calls himself your clerk , has brought this .