He hung fondly by his god-father's side; and it was his
delight to walk in the Parks and hear Dobbin talk. William told George
about his father, about India and Waterloo, about everything but
himself. When George was more than usually pert and conceited, the Major
joked at him, which Mrs. Osborne thought very cruel. One day taking him
to the play, and the boy declining to go into the pit because it was
vulgar, the Major took him to the boxes, left him there, and went down
himself to the pit. He had not been seated there very long before he
felt an arm thrust under his, and a dandy little hand in a kid-glove
squeezing his arm. George had seen the absurdity of his ways, and come
down from the upper region. A tender laugh of benevolence lighted up old
Dobbin's face and eyes as he looked at the repentant little prodigal. He
loved the boy very deeply.
If there was a sincere liking between George and the Major, it must be
confessed that between the boy and his Uncle Joseph no great love
existed. George had got a way of blowing out his cheeks, and putting his
hands in his waistcoat pockets, and saying, "God bless my soul, you don't
say so," so exactly after the fashion of old Jos, that it was impossible
to refrain from laughter. The servants would explode at dinner if the
lad, asking for something which wasn't at table, put on that countenance
and used that favourite phrase.
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