CHARLES DICKENS DOMBEY AND SON CHAPTER I Dombey and ...

'Why then, here's all about it, Master,' said the Chicken. 'I ain't a cove
to chuck a word away. Here's wot it is. Are any on 'em to be doubled up?'
When the Chicken put this question he dropped his hat, made a dodge and a
feint with his left hand, hit a supposed enemy a violent blow with his
right, shook his head smartly, and recovered himself.
'Come, Master,' said the Chicken. 'Is it to be gammon or pluck? Which?'
'Chicken,' returned Mr. Toots, 'your expressions are coarse, and your
meaning is obscure.'
'Why, then, I tell you what, Master,' said the Chicken. 'This is where it
is. It's mean.'
'What is mean, Chicken?' asked Mr. Toots.
'It is,' said the Chicken, with a frightful corrugation of his broken nose.
'There! Now, Master! Wot! When you could go and blow on this here match to
the stiff 'un;' by which depreciatory appellation it has been since supposed
that the Game One intended to signify Mr. Dombey; 'and when you could knock
the winner and all the kit of 'em dead out o' wind and time, are you going
to give in? To give in?' said the Chicken, with contemptuous emphasis. 'Wy,
it's mean!'
'Chicken,' said Mr. Toots, severely, 'you're a perfect Vulture! Your
sentiments are atrocious.'
'My sentiments is Game and Fancy, Master,' returned the Chicken. 'That's wot
my sentiments is. I can't abear a meanness. I'm afore the public, I'm to be
heerd on at the bar of the Little Helephant, and no Gov'ner o' mine mustn't
go and do what's mean. Wy, it's mean,' said the Chicken, with increased
expression. 'That's where it is. It's mean.'
'Chicken,' said Mr. Toots, 'You disgust me.'