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NEW QUESTION: 1
But the Dust-Bin was going down then, and your father took but little, excepting from a liquid point of view.
Your mother's object in those visits was of a house-keeping character, and you was set on to whistle your
father out. Sometimes he came out, but generally not. Come or not come, however, all that part of his
existence which was unconnected with open Waitering was kept a close secret, and was acknowledged by
your mother to be a close secret, and you and your mother flitted about the court, close secrets both of
you, and would scarcely have confessed under torture that you know your father, or that your father had
any name than Dick (which wasn't his name, though he was never known by any other), or that he had kith
or kin or chick or child.
Perhaps the attraction of this mystery, combined with your father's having a damp compartment, to himself,
behind a leaky cistern, at the Dust Bin, a sort of a cellar compartment, with a sink in it, and a smell, and a
plate-rack, and a bottle-rack, and three windows that didn't match each other or anything else, and no
daylight, caused your young mind to feel convinced that you must grow up to be a Waiter too; but you did
feel convinced of it, and so did all your brothers, down to your sister. Every one of you felt convinced that
you was born to the Waitering.
At this stage of your career, what was your feelings one day when your father came home to your mother
in open broad daylight, of itself an act of Madness on the part of a Waiter, and took to his bed (leastwise,
your mother and family's bed), with the statement that his eyes were devilled kidneys. Physicians being in
vain, your father expired, after repeating at intervals for a day and a night, when gleams of reason and old
business fitfully illuminated his being, "Two and two is five. And three is sixpence." Interred in the parochial
department of the neighbouring churchyard, and accompanied to the grave by as many Waiters of long
standing as could spare the morning time from their soiled glasses (namely, one), your bereaved form was
attired in a white neckankecher [sic], and you was took on from motives of benevolence at The George and
Gridiron, theatrical and supper. Here, supporting nature on what you found in the plates(which was as it
happened, and but too often thoughtlessly, immersed in mustard), and on what you found in the glasses
(which rarely went beyond driblets and lemon), by night you dropped asleep standing, till you was cuffed
awake, and by day was set to polishing every individual article in the coffee-room. Your couch being
sawdust; your counterpane being ashes of cigars. Here, frequently hiding a heavy heart under the smart tie
of your white neck ankecher (or correctly speaking lower down and more to the left), you picked up the
rudiments of knowledge from an extra, by the name of Bishops, and by calling plate-washer, and gradually
elevating your mind with chalk on the back of the corner-box partition, until such time as you used the
inkstand when it was out of hand, attained to manhood, and to be the Waiter that you find yourself.
I could wish here to offer a few respectful words on behalf of the calling so long the calling of myself and
family, and the public interest in which is but too often very limited. We are not generally understood. No,
we are not. Allowance enough is not made for us. For, say that we ever show a little drooping listlessness
of spirits, or what might be termed indifference or apathy. Put it to yourself what would your own state of
mind be, if you was one of an enormous family every member of which except you was always greedy, and
in a hurry. Put it to yourself that you was regularly replete with animal food at the slack hours of one in the
day and again at nine p.m., and that the repleter [sic] you was, the more voracious all your fellow-creatures
came in. Put it to yourself that it was your business, when your digestion was well on, to take a personal
interest and sympathy in a hundred gentlemen fresh and fresh (say, for the sake of argument, only a
hundred), whose imaginations was given up to grease and fat and gravy and melted butter, and
abandoned to questioning you about cuts of this, and dishes of that, each of 'em going on as if him and
you and the bill of fare was alone in the world.
Why does the language "Two and two is five. And three is sixpence" 3rd paragraph illuminate rather than
confuse the character of the father on his deathbed?
A. It is normal for a dying person to speak of money or fortune upon their deathbed.
B. It is reasonable that a father would be concerned about his family's finances following his death.
C. It was his practice the whole of his daily vocation.
D. It was the amount being communicated that should be paid for his burial.
E. It indicates that he wanted his wife and son to be sure to get the money from the compartment.
Answer: C
Explanation:
Explanation/Reference:
Explanation:
As a waiter, it would be his job every day to count back change to patrons at the conclusion of each meal.
What is a universal truth is that upon one's deathbed, given general circumstances, during times of
conscience interludes people often speak in jargon related to their vocations.

NEW QUESTION: 2
A customer wants to deploy a high number of virtualized servers per physical host. Which of these aids that requirement?
A. Cisco Extended Memory Architecture
B. 8 core processors
C. more than two processors per physical server
D. 10GE connectivity
Answer: A

NEW QUESTION: 3

A. (4) VIO Servers, each handling a portion of the traffic
B. (2) VIO Servers one handling network and one handling storage
C. (4) VIO Servers, two handling network and two handling storage
D. (2) VIO Servers, each handling a portion of the traffic
Answer: B