had got as far as "Why———" when Joe stopped me.
"Stay a bit. I know what you're a going to say, Pip; stay a bit! I don't deny that your sister comes the Mo-gul over us, now and again. I don't deny that she do throw us back-falls, and that she do drop down upon us heavy. At such times as when your sister is on the Ram-page, Pip," Joe sank his voice to a whisper and glanced at the door, "candour compels fur to admit that she is a Buster."
Joe pronounced this word, as if it began with at least twelve capital Bs.
"Why don't I rise? That were your observation when I broke it off, Pip?" "Yes, Joe."
"Well," said Joe, passing the poker into his left hand, that he might feel his whisker and I had no hope of him whenever he took to that placid occupation; "your sister's a master-mind. A master-mind."
"What's that?" I asked, in some hope of bringing him to a stand. But, Joe was readier with his definition than I had expected, and completely stopped me by
