Charley Nugent; or Passages in the Life of a Sub [by J Maughan]

Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: CHAPTER III. There's nane like braw John Highlandman. Scotch Song. Rap, tap, tap. Come in, in a very sleepy tone from Mr. Charles Nugent, buried in profound slumber, from which he is highly disgusted at being disturbed. Enter Groves, who for nearly twenty years has filled the post of butter in my father's...
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Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: CHAPTER III. There's nane like braw John Highlandman. Scotch Song. Rap, tap, tap. Come in, in a very sleepy tone from Mr. Charles Nugent, buried in profound slumber, from which he is highly disgusted at being disturbed. Enter Groves, who for nearly twenty years has filled the post of butter in my father's establishment; a very erect and portly elderly individual, with a high sense of his own dignity and responsibility, and to whom I have only the slight objection that he does not look up to me with the profound reverence to which my eighteen years fully entitle me, and also that he aggravates me in a very serious manner. by constantly addressing me as Master Charles. Master Charles, indeed I who expect in a very short time to be a British officer, bearing the commission of her most gracious Majesty Queen Victoria Fine morning, sir. Brought your shaving water, sir. Past eight o'clock, sir. I also have an idea carefully concealed in the inmost recesses of my breast, that Groves has a delicate shade of irony in his voice when he alludes to myshaving water. This fills me with deep indignation; and I laboriously cut and plunge at my unfortunate visage, which is as destitute as the back of my hand of anything approaching to a beard, and work up an amazing lather of soap, so as to afford outward and visible signs of the shaving water being a necessary adjunct to my toilette. But I have my suspicions that this in no way imposes upon Groves. 1 certainly always hear that unmistakeable twang in his voice. Shall I open your shutters, sir? Oh hang it, Groves, don't make such a row; I'm desperately sleepy. Only eight o'clock, is it ? Come back in half an hour, I'll get up then. Very well, sir. The post brought a letter for you, sir. P...