You would have a very mean opinion of a Manchester man if he spun cotton for no other purpose.

He must say he thought a drone the embodiment of a pleasanter and wiser idea.

The drone said unaffectedly, "You will excuse me; I really cannot attend to the shop! I find myself in a world in which there is so much to see and so short a time to see it in that I must take the liberty of looking about me and begging to be provided for by somebody who doesn't want to look about him." This appeared to Mr.Skimpole to be the drone philosophy, and he thought it a very good philosophy, always supposing the drone to be willing to be on good terms with the bee, which, so far as he knew, the easy fellow always was, if the consequential creature would only let him, and not be so conceited about his honey! He pursued this fancy with the lightest foot over a variety of ground and made us all merry, though again he seemed to have as serious a meaning in what he said as he was capable of having.

I left them still listening to him when I withdrew to attend to my new duties.
They had occupied me for some time, and I was passing through the passages on my return with my basket of keys on my arm when Mr.
Jarndyce called me into a small room next his bed-chamber, which I found to be in part a little library of books and papers and in part quite a little museum of his boots and shoes and hat-boxes.
"Sit down, my dear," said Mr.Jarndyce.

"This, you must know, is the growlery.