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Chapter 7. The Child of the Marshalsea

           SupposeItryandgethimintothelaw?’

           ‘Thatwouldbesogoodofyou,Bob!’

           Theturnkeyhadnowtwopointstoputtotheprofessionalgentlemenastheypassedinandout.HeputthissecondonesoperseveringlythatastoolandtwelveshillingsaweekwereatlastfoundforTipintheofficeofanattorneyinagreatNationalPalladiumcalledthePalaceCourt;atthattimeoneofaconsiderablelistofeverlastingbulwarkstothedignityandsafetyofAlbion,whoseplacesknowthemnomore.

           TiplanguishedinClifford’sInnsforsixmonths,andattheexpirationofthattermsaunteredbackoneeveningwithhishandsinhispockets,andincidentallyobservedtohissisterthathewasnotgoingbackagain.

           ‘Notgoingbackagain?’saidthepoorlittleanxiousChildoftheMarshalsea,alwayscalculatingandplanningforTip,inthefrontrankofhercharges.

           ‘Iamsotiredofit,’saidTip,‘thatIhavecutit.’

           Tiptiredofeverything.WithintervalsofMarshalsealounging,andMrsBanghamsuccession,hissmallsecondmother,aidedbyhertrustyfriend,gothimintoawarehouse,intoamarketgarden,intothehoptrade,intothelawagain,intoanauctioneers,intoabrewery,intoastockbroker’s,intothelawagain,intoacoachoffice,intoawaggonoffice,intothelawagain,intoageneraldealer’s,intoadistillery,intothelawagain,intoawoolhouse,intoadrygoodshouse,intotheBillingsgatetrade,intotheforeignfruittrade,andintothedocks.ButwhateverTipwentinto,hecameoutoftired,announcingthathehadcutit.

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