A regular-downright-respectable-funereal-first-class-City-firm-junior-clerk

MARCH 21. Today I shall conclude my diary, for it is one of the happiest days of my life. My great diaries of the last few weeks – in fact, of many years – has been realized. This morning came a letter from Mr Perkupp, asking me to take Lupin down to the office with me. I went to Lupin’s room; poor fellow, he seemed very pale, and said he had a bad headache. He had come back yesterday from Gravesend, where he spent the part of the day in a small boat on the water, having been mad enough to neglect to take his overcoat with him. I showed him Mr Perkupp’s letter, and he got up as quickly as possible. I begged of him not to put on his fast-coloured clothes and ties, but to dress in something black or quiet-looking.
Carrie was all of a tremble when she read the letter, and all she could keep on saying was: ‘Oh, I do hope it will be all right.’ For myself, I could scarcely eat any breakfast. Lupin came down dressed quietly, and looking a perfect gentleman, except that his face was rather yellow. Carrie, by was of encouragement, said: ‘You do look nice, Lupin.’ Lupin replied: ‘Yes, it’s a good make-up, isn’t it? A regular-downright-respectable-funereal-first-class-City-firm-junior-clerk.’ He laughed rather ironically.
In the hall I heard a great noise, and also Lupin shouting to Sarah to fetch down his old hat. I went into the passage, and found Lupin in a fury, kicking and smashing a new tall hat. I said: ‘Lupin, my boy, what are you doing? How wicked of you! Some poor fellow would be glad to have it.’ Lupin replied: ‘I would no insult any poor fellow by giving it to him.’
When he had gone outside, I picked up the battered hat, and saw inside. ‘Posh’s Patent’. Poor Lupin! I can forgive him. It seemed hours before we reached the office. Mr Perkupp sent for Lupin, who was with him nearly an hour. He returned, as I thought, crestfallen in appearance. I said: ‘Well, Lupin, how about Mr Perkupp?’ Lupin commenced his song: ‘What’s the matter with Perkupp? He’s all right!’ I felt instinctively my boy was engaged. I went to Mr Perkupp, but I could not speak. He said: ‘Well, Mr Pooter, what is it?’ I must have looked a fool, for all I could say was: ‘Mr Perkupp, you are a good amn.’ He looked at me for a moment, and said: ‘No, Mr Pooter, you are the good man; and we’ll see if we cannot get your son to follow such an excellent example.’ I said: ‘Mr Perkupp, may I go home? I cannot work any more today.’

uit: The diary of a nobody - George en Weedon Grossmith

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