I once bought a large 3' by 5' Andorran flag at the Mall of America (because MN is a beast like that) and the flag-monger gave me $5 off for enthusiasm. Either that or he just really wanted me to leave...
This Pip reminds me of Brick on The Middle
104Pip arrives at his home and is asked many questions by Mrs. Joe. When Pip replies ambiguously, he is beaten. Uncle Pumblechook intervenes.
105Uncle Pumblechook: Well, boy, how did you get on up town?
Pip: Pretty well, sir.
Uncle Pumblechook: Pretty well? Pretty well is no answer. Tell us what you mean by pretty well, boy?
Pip: I mean pretty well.
Mrs. Joe exclaims at Pip and tries to beat him again.
Uncle Pumblechook: No! Don't lose your temper. Leave this lad to me, ma'am; leave this lad to me. First (to get our thoughts in order): Forty-three pence?
106Pip answers and is slightly off. Uncle Pumblechook explains conversion rates.
Uncle Pumblechook: Twelve pence make one shilling. Forty pence make three and fourpence. Now! How much is forty-three pence?
Pip: I don't know.
Uncle Pumblechook: Is forty-three pence seven and sixpence three fardens, for instance?
Pip: Yes!
As Uncle Pumblechook’s question was meant as a joke, Mrs. Joe boxes Pip’s ears.
Uncle Pumblechook: Boy! What like is Miss Havisham?
Pip: Very tall and dark.
Mrs. Joe: Is she, uncle?
Uncle Pumblechook winks assent.
Uncle Pumblechook: Good! (This is the way to have him! We are beginning to hold our own, I think, Mum?)
Mrs. Joe: I am sure, uncle. I wish you had 107him always: you know so well how to deal with him.
Uncle Pumblechook: Now, boy! What was she a-doing of, when you went in today?
Pip: She was sitting in a black velvet coach.
Uncle Pumblechook and Mrs. Joe stare at one another
Pip: Yes, and Miss Estella—that's her niece, I think—handed her in cake and wine at the coach-window, on a gold plate. And we all had cake and wine on gold plates. And I got up behind the coach to eat mine, because she told me to.
Uncle Pumblechook: Was anybody else there?
Pip: Four dogs.
Uncle Pumblechook: Large or small?
Pip: Immense, and they fought for veal cutlets out of a silver basket.
Mrs. Joe: Where was this coach, in the name of gracious?
Pip: In Miss Havisham's room, but there weren't any horses to it.
Mrs. Joe: Can this be possible, uncle? What can the boy mean?
108Uncle Pumblechook: I'll tell you, Mum, my opinion is, it's a sedan-chair. She's flighty, you know—very flighty—quite flighty enough to pass her days in a sedan-chair.
Mrs. Joe: Did you ever see her in it, uncle?
Uncle Pumblechook: How could I, when I never see her in my life? Never clapped eyes upon her!
Mrs. Joe: Goodness, uncle! And yet you have spoken to her?
Uncle Pumblechook: Why, don't you know that when I have been there, I have been took up to the outside of her door, and the door has stood ajar, and she has spoke to me that way. Don't say you don't know that, Mum. Howsever, the boy went there to play. What did you play at, boy?
Pip: We played with flags.
Mrs. Joe: Flags!
Pip: Yes, Estella waved a blue flag, and I waved a red one, and Miss Havisham waved one sprinkled all over with little gold stars, out at the coach-window. And then we all waved our swords and hurrahed.
Mrs. Joe: Swords! Where did you get swords from?
Pip: Out of a cupboard, and I saw pistols in it—and jam—and pills. And there was no daylight in the room, but it was all lighted up with candles.
109Uncle Pumblechook: That's true, Mum, that's the state of the case, for that much I've seen myself.
Mrs. Joe and Uncle Pumblechook discuss the money they think Pip will receive from Mrs. Havisham. Pip escapes. Joe arrives for tea and Mrs. Joe and Uncle Pumblechook are still discussing.
110Joe: [He might only be presented with one of the dogs who fought for the veal-cutlets.]
Mrs. Joe: If a fool's head can't express better opinions than that. And you have got any work to do, you had better go and do it.
Joe goes to the forge and Pip follows.
Pip: Before the fire goes out, Joe, I should like to tell you something.
Joe: Should you, Pip? Then tell us. What is it, Pip?
Pip: Joe, you remember all that about Miss Havisham's?
Pip: Remember? I believe you! Wonderful!
Pip: It's a terrible thing, Joe; it ain't true.
Joe: What are you telling of, Pip? You don't mean to say it's--
Pip: Yes I do; it's lies, Joe.
Joe: But not all of it? Why sure you don't mean to say, Pip, that there was no black welwet co-eh? But at least there was dogs, Pip? Come, Pip, if there warn't no weal-cutlets, at least there was dogs?
111Pip: No, Joe.
Joe: A dog? A puppy? Come?
Pip: No, Joe, there was nothing at all of the kind.
Joe: Pip, old chap! This won't do, old fellow! I say! Where do you expect to go to?
Pip: It's terrible, Joe; an't it?
Joe: Terrible? Awful! What possessed you?
Pip: I don't know what possessed me, Joe, but I wish you hadn't taught me to call Knaves at cards, Jacks; and I wish my boots weren't so thick nor my hands so coarse.
Pip tells Joe about how miserable he is and how rude Estella was and that he wished he wasn’t common.
Joe: There's one thing you may be sure of, Pip, namely, that lies is lies. Howsever they come, they didn't ought to come, 112and they come from the father of lies, and work round to the same. Don't you tell no more of 'em, Pip. That ain't the way to get out of being common, old chap. And as to being common, I don't make it out at all clear. You are oncommon in some things. You're oncommon small. Likewise you're a oncommon scholar.
Pip: No, I am ignorant and backward, Joe.
Joe: Why, see what a letter you wrote last night! Wrote in print even! I've seen letters—Ah! And from gentlefolks!—That I'll swear weren't wrote in print.
Pip: I have learnt next to nothing, Joe. You think much of me. It's only that.
Joe: Well, Pip, be it so or be it son't, you must be a common scholar afore you can be a oncommon one, I should hope! The king upon his throne, with his crown upon his 'ed, can't sit and write his acts of Parliament in print, without having begun, when he were a unpromoted Prince, with the alphabet—Ah! and begun at A too, and worked his way to Z. And I know what that is to do, though I can't say I've exactly done it.
Whether common ones as to callings and earnings mightn't be the better of continuing for a keep company with common ones, instead of going out to play with oncommon ones—which reminds me to hope that there were a flag, perhaps?
113Pip: No, Joe.
Joe: (I'm sorry there weren't a flag, Pip). Whether that might be, or mightn't be, is a thing as can't be looked into now, without putting your sister on the Rampage; and that's a thing not to be thought of, as being done intentional. Lookee here, Pip, at what is said to you by a true friend. Which this to you the true friend say. If you can't get to be oncommon through going straight, you'll never get to do it through going crooked. So don't tell no more on 'em, Pip, and live well and die happy.
Pip: You are not angry with me, Joe?
Joe: No, old chap. But bearing in mind that them were which I meantersay of a stunning and outdacious sort—alluding to them which bordered on weal-cutlets and dog-fighting—a sincere wellwisher would adwise, Pip, their being dropped into your meditations, when you go up-stairs to bed. That's all, old chap, and don't never do it no more.
Pip leaves and goes to bed, still wishing he was not common, and 114recalling that which he did at Miss Havisham’s.
105Uncle Pumblechook: Well, boy, how did you get on up town?
Pip: Pretty well, sir.
Uncle Pumblechook: Pretty well? Pretty well is no answer. Tell us what you mean by pretty well, boy?
Pip: I mean pretty well.
Mrs. Joe exclaims at Pip and tries to beat him again.
Uncle Pumblechook: No! Don't lose your temper. Leave this lad to me, ma'am; leave this lad to me. First (to get our thoughts in order): Forty-three pence?
106Pip answers and is slightly off. Uncle Pumblechook explains conversion rates.
Uncle Pumblechook: Twelve pence make one shilling. Forty pence make three and fourpence. Now! How much is forty-three pence?
Pip: I don't know.
Uncle Pumblechook: Is forty-three pence seven and sixpence three fardens, for instance?
Pip: Yes!
As Uncle Pumblechook’s question was meant as a joke, Mrs. Joe boxes Pip’s ears.
Uncle Pumblechook: Boy! What like is Miss Havisham?
Pip: Very tall and dark.
Mrs. Joe: Is she, uncle?
Uncle Pumblechook winks assent.
Uncle Pumblechook: Good! (This is the way to have him! We are beginning to hold our own, I think, Mum?)
Mrs. Joe: I am sure, uncle. I wish you had 107him always: you know so well how to deal with him.
Uncle Pumblechook: Now, boy! What was she a-doing of, when you went in today?
Pip: She was sitting in a black velvet coach.
Uncle Pumblechook and Mrs. Joe stare at one another
Pip: Yes, and Miss Estella—that's her niece, I think—handed her in cake and wine at the coach-window, on a gold plate. And we all had cake and wine on gold plates. And I got up behind the coach to eat mine, because she told me to.
Uncle Pumblechook: Was anybody else there?
Pip: Four dogs.
Uncle Pumblechook: Large or small?
Pip: Immense, and they fought for veal cutlets out of a silver basket.
Mrs. Joe: Where was this coach, in the name of gracious?
Pip: In Miss Havisham's room, but there weren't any horses to it.
Mrs. Joe: Can this be possible, uncle? What can the boy mean?
108Uncle Pumblechook: I'll tell you, Mum, my opinion is, it's a sedan-chair. She's flighty, you know—very flighty—quite flighty enough to pass her days in a sedan-chair.
Mrs. Joe: Did you ever see her in it, uncle?
Uncle Pumblechook: How could I, when I never see her in my life? Never clapped eyes upon her!
Mrs. Joe: Goodness, uncle! And yet you have spoken to her?
Uncle Pumblechook: Why, don't you know that when I have been there, I have been took up to the outside of her door, and the door has stood ajar, and she has spoke to me that way. Don't say you don't know that, Mum. Howsever, the boy went there to play. What did you play at, boy?
Pip: We played with flags.
Mrs. Joe: Flags!
Pip: Yes, Estella waved a blue flag, and I waved a red one, and Miss Havisham waved one sprinkled all over with little gold stars, out at the coach-window. And then we all waved our swords and hurrahed.
Mrs. Joe: Swords! Where did you get swords from?
Pip: Out of a cupboard, and I saw pistols in it—and jam—and pills. And there was no daylight in the room, but it was all lighted up with candles.
109Uncle Pumblechook: That's true, Mum, that's the state of the case, for that much I've seen myself.
Mrs. Joe and Uncle Pumblechook discuss the money they think Pip will receive from Mrs. Havisham. Pip escapes. Joe arrives for tea and Mrs. Joe and Uncle Pumblechook are still discussing.
110Joe: [He might only be presented with one of the dogs who fought for the veal-cutlets.]
Mrs. Joe: If a fool's head can't express better opinions than that. And you have got any work to do, you had better go and do it.
Joe goes to the forge and Pip follows.
Pip: Before the fire goes out, Joe, I should like to tell you something.
Joe: Should you, Pip? Then tell us. What is it, Pip?
Pip: Joe, you remember all that about Miss Havisham's?
Pip: Remember? I believe you! Wonderful!
Pip: It's a terrible thing, Joe; it ain't true.
Joe: What are you telling of, Pip? You don't mean to say it's--
Pip: Yes I do; it's lies, Joe.
Joe: But not all of it? Why sure you don't mean to say, Pip, that there was no black welwet co-eh? But at least there was dogs, Pip? Come, Pip, if there warn't no weal-cutlets, at least there was dogs?
111Pip: No, Joe.
Joe: A dog? A puppy? Come?
Pip: No, Joe, there was nothing at all of the kind.
Joe: Pip, old chap! This won't do, old fellow! I say! Where do you expect to go to?
Pip: It's terrible, Joe; an't it?
Joe: Terrible? Awful! What possessed you?
Pip: I don't know what possessed me, Joe, but I wish you hadn't taught me to call Knaves at cards, Jacks; and I wish my boots weren't so thick nor my hands so coarse.
Pip tells Joe about how miserable he is and how rude Estella was and that he wished he wasn’t common.
Joe: There's one thing you may be sure of, Pip, namely, that lies is lies. Howsever they come, they didn't ought to come, 112and they come from the father of lies, and work round to the same. Don't you tell no more of 'em, Pip. That ain't the way to get out of being common, old chap. And as to being common, I don't make it out at all clear. You are oncommon in some things. You're oncommon small. Likewise you're a oncommon scholar.
Pip: No, I am ignorant and backward, Joe.
Joe: Why, see what a letter you wrote last night! Wrote in print even! I've seen letters—Ah! And from gentlefolks!—That I'll swear weren't wrote in print.
Pip: I have learnt next to nothing, Joe. You think much of me. It's only that.
Joe: Well, Pip, be it so or be it son't, you must be a common scholar afore you can be a oncommon one, I should hope! The king upon his throne, with his crown upon his 'ed, can't sit and write his acts of Parliament in print, without having begun, when he were a unpromoted Prince, with the alphabet—Ah! and begun at A too, and worked his way to Z. And I know what that is to do, though I can't say I've exactly done it.
Whether common ones as to callings and earnings mightn't be the better of continuing for a keep company with common ones, instead of going out to play with oncommon ones—which reminds me to hope that there were a flag, perhaps?
113Pip: No, Joe.
Joe: (I'm sorry there weren't a flag, Pip). Whether that might be, or mightn't be, is a thing as can't be looked into now, without putting your sister on the Rampage; and that's a thing not to be thought of, as being done intentional. Lookee here, Pip, at what is said to you by a true friend. Which this to you the true friend say. If you can't get to be oncommon through going straight, you'll never get to do it through going crooked. So don't tell no more on 'em, Pip, and live well and die happy.
Pip: You are not angry with me, Joe?
Joe: No, old chap. But bearing in mind that them were which I meantersay of a stunning and outdacious sort—alluding to them which bordered on weal-cutlets and dog-fighting—a sincere wellwisher would adwise, Pip, their being dropped into your meditations, when you go up-stairs to bed. That's all, old chap, and don't never do it no more.
Pip leaves and goes to bed, still wishing he was not common, and 114recalling that which he did at Miss Havisham’s.
