I threw open the folding-doors near by, and turning upon Turkey and
Nippers, exclaimed in an excited manner--
"He says, a second time, he won't examine his papers. What do you think
of it, Turkey?"
It was afternoon, be it remembered. Turkey sat glowing like a brass
boiler, his bald head steaming, his hands reeling among his blotted
papers.
"Think of it?" roared Turkey; "I think I'll just step behind his screen,
and black his eyes for him!"
So saying, Turkey rose to his feet and threw his arms into a pugilistic
position. He was hurrying away to make good his promise, when I
detained him, alarmed at the effect of incautiously rousing Turkey's
combativeness after dinner.
"Sit down, Turkey," said I, "and hear what Nippers has to say. What do
you think of it, Nippers? Would I not be justified in immediately
dismissing Bartleby?"
"Excuse me, that is for you to decide, sir. I think his conduct quite
unusual, and indeed unjust, as regards Turkey and myself. But it may
only be a passing whim.
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