 CHAPTER 24. That's progress in certain homely matters of love, hatred, jealousy, and revenge. Hello, pecs-niff, cried Mr. Jonas from the parlor. Isn't somebody going to open that precious old door of yours? Immediately, Mr. Jonas, immediately. He cod-muttered the orphan, not before its time, neither. Whoever it is is knocked three times in each one loud enough to wake the—he had such a repugnance to the idea of waking the dead that he stopped even then with the words upon his tongue and said, instead, the seven sleepers. Immediately, Mr. Jonas immediately repeated pecs-niff. Thomas pinched. He couldn't make up his mind in his great agitation, whether to call Tom his dear friend or a villain, so he shook his fist at him pro-tem. Go up to my daughter's room and tell them who is here. Say, silence. Do you hear me, sir? Directly, sir, cried Tom, departing in a state of much amazement on his errand. You'll—ha-ha—you'll excuse me, Mr. Jonas, if I close this door a moment, will you? Said pecs-niff. This may be a professional call. Indeed, I am pretty sure it is. Thank you. Then Mr. pecs-niff, gently warbling a rustic stave, put on his garden hat, seized a spade and opened the street door, calmly appearing on the threshold as if he thought he had, from his vineyard, heard a modest rap, but was not quite certain. Seeing a gentleman and lady before him, he started back in as much confusion as a good man with a crystal conscience might betray in mere surprise. Recognition came upon him the next moment, and he cried, Mr. Chuzzlewet, can I believe my eyes? My dear sir, my good sir, a joyful hour, a happy hour indeed. Pray, my dear sir, walk in. You find me in my garden-dress. You will excuse it, I know, it is an ancient pursuit, gardening, primitive, my dear sir, or if I am not mistaken, Adam was the first of our calling. My eve, I grieve to say, is no more, sir, but here he pointed to his spade and shook his head, as if he were not cheerful without an effort. But I do a little bit of Adam still. He had, by this time, got them into the best parlor where the portrait by Spiller and the bust by Spoker were. Night orders, said Mr. Pecksniff, will be overjoyed. If I could feel weary upon such a theme I should have been worn out long ago, my dear sir, by their constant anticipation of this happiness and their repeated illusions to our meeting at Mrs. Togges's. Their fair young friend, too, said Mr. Pecksniff, whom they so desire to know and love, indeed to know her is to love. I hope I see her well. I hope in saying welcome to my humble roof, I find some echo in her own sentiments. If features are an index to the heart I have no fears of that, an extremely engaging expression of countenance, Mr. Cheslewitt, my dear sir, very much so. Mary, said the old man, Mr. Pecksniff flatters you, but flattery from him is worth the having. He is not a dealer in it, and it comes from his heart. We thought, Mr. Pinch, said Mary, Mr. Pinch would have arrived before us, Pecksniff. He did arrive before you, my dear sir, retorted Pecksniff, raising his voice for the edification of Tom upon the stairs, and was about, I dare say, to tell me of your coming when I begged him first to knock at my daughter's chamber and inquire after charity, my dear child, who is not so well as I could wish. No, said Mr. Pecksniff, answering their looks. I am sorry to say she is not. It is merely an hysterical affection, nothing more. I am not uneasy. Mr. Pinch, Thomas, exclaimed Pecksniff, in his kindest accents, pray come in, I shall make no stranger of you. This is a friend of mine, a rather longstanding, Mr. Chuzzle, what you must know. Thank you, sir, said Tom. You introduced me very kindly, and speak of me in terms of which I am very proud. Old Thomas cried his master pleasantly, God bless you. Tom reported that the young ladies would appear directly, and that the best refreshments which the house afforded were even then in preparation under their joint superintendents. While he was speaking, the old man looked at him intently, though with less harshness than was common to him. Nor did the mutual embarrassment of Tom and the young lady, to whatever cause he attributed it, seem to escape his observation. Pecksniff, he said, after a pause, rising and taking him aside towards the window. I was much shocked on hearing of my brother's death. We had been strangers for many years. My only comfort is that he must have lived the happier and better man for having associated no hopes or schemes with me. Peace to his memory. We were playfellows once, and it would have been better for us both if we had died then. Finding him in this gentle mood, Mr. Pecksniff began to see another way out of his difficulties, besides the casting overboard of Jonas. That any man, my dear sir, could possibly be the happier for not knowing you, he returned. I will excuse my doubting. But that Mr. Anthony, in the evening of his life, was happier in the affection of his excellent son, a pattern, my dear sir, a pattern to all sons, and in the care of a distant relation who, however lowly in his means of serving him, had no bounds to his inclination I can inform you. How's this, said the old man? You are not a gay tea. You don't, said Mr. Pecksniff, with the melancholy pressure of his hand, quite understand my nature yet, I find. No, sir, I am not a gay tea. I am proud to say I am not a gay tea. I am proud to say that neither of my children is a gay tea, and yet, sir, I was with him at his own request. He understood me somewhat better, sir. He wrote and said, I am sick, I am sinking, come to me. I went to him. I sat beside his bed, sir, and I stood beside his grave. Yes, at the risk of offending even you, I did it, sir. Though the avowal should lead to our instant separation and to the severing of those tender ties between us, which have recently been formed, I make it. But I am not a gay tea, said Mr. Pecksniff, smiling dispassionately, and I never expected to be a gay tea, I knew better. His son, a pattern, cried old Martin, how can you tell me that? My brother had in his wealth the usual doom of wealth and root of misery. He carried his corrupting influence with him go where he would, and shed it round him even on his hearth. It made of his own child a greedy expectant, who measured every day and hour the lessening distance between his father and the grave, and cursed his tardy progress on that dismal road. No, cried Mr. Pecksniff boldly, not at all, sir. But I saw that shadow in his house, said Martin Chuzzlewit, the last time we met, and warned him of its presence. I know it when I see it, do I not, I who have lived within it all these years? I deny it, Mr. Pecksniff answered warmly, I deny it altogether, that bereaved young man is now in this house, sir, seeking in change of scene the peace of mind he has lost. While I be backward in doing justice to that young man, when even undertakers and coffin makers have been moved by the conduct he has exhibited, when even mutes have spoken in his praise, and the medical man hasn't known what to do with himself and the excitement of his feelings, there is a person of the name of Gamp, sir, Mrs. Gamp, ask her. She saw Mr. Jonas in a trying time. Ask her, sir, she is respectable, but not sentimental, and will state the fact. A line addressed to Mrs. Gamp at the Bird Shop, Kingsgate Street, High Hall-Born London, will meet with every attention I have no doubt. Let her be examined, my good sirs, strike but hear, leap, Mr. Chuzzlewit, but look. Forgive me, my dear sirs, said Mr. Pecksniff, taking both his hands, if I am warm, but I am honest and must state the truth. In proof of the character he gave himself, Mr. Pecksniff suffered tears of honesty to ooze out of his eyes. The old man gazed at him for a moment with a look of wonder, repeating to himself, Here, now, in this house. But he mastered his surprise and said after a pause, Let me see him. In a friendly spirit, I hope, said Mr. Pecksniff, Forgive me, sir, but he is in the receipt of my humble hospitality. I said, replied the old man, Let me see him. If I were disposed to regard him in any other than a friendly spirit, I should have said, Keep us apart. Certainly, my dear sirs, so you would. You are frankness itself, I know. I will break this happiness to him, said Mr. Pecksniff, as he left the room, if you will excuse me for a minute, gently. He paved the way to the disclosure so very gently that a quarter of an hour elapsed before he returned with Mr. Jonas. In the meantime, the young ladies had made their appearance and the table had been set out for the refreshment of the travelers. Now, however well Mr. Pecksniff, in his morality, had taught Jonas the lesson of dutiful behavior to his uncle, and however perfectly Jonas, in the cunning of his nature, had learnt it, that young man's bearing, when presented to his father's brother, was anything but manly or engaging. Perhaps indeed so singular a mixture of defiance and obsequiousness, of fear and heartyhood, of dogged sullenness, and an attempt at enraging and propitiation, never was expressed in any one human figure as in that of Jonas. When having raised his downcast eyes to Martin's face, he let them fall again, and uneasily closing and unclosing his hands, without a moment's intermission, stood swinging himself from side to side, waiting to be addressed. Nephew, said the old man, you have been a dutiful son, I hear. As dutiful as sons in general, I suppose, returned Jonas, looking up and down once more. I don't brag to have been any better than other sons, but I haven't been any worse, I daresay. A pattern to all sons, I am told, said the old man, glancing towards Mr. Pecksniff. He cod, said Jonas, looking up again for a moment, and shaking his head. I've been as good a son as ever you were a brother, it's the pot and the kettle if you come to that. You speak bitterly in the violence of your regret, said Martin, after a pause. Give me your hand. Jonas did so, and was almost at his ease. Pecksniff, he whispered, as they drew their chairs above the table. I gave him as good as he brought, eh? He had better look at home before he looks out of window, I think. Mr. Pecksniff only answered by a nudge of the elbow, which might either be construed into an indignant remonstrance or a cordial ascent, but which, in any case, was an emphatic admonition to his chosen son-in-law to be silent. He then proceeded to do the honors of the house with his accustomed ease and amiability. But not even Mr. Pecksniff's guileless merriment could set such a party at their ease or reconcile materials so utterly discordant and conflicting as those with which he had to deal. The unspeakable jealousy and hatred which that night's explanation had sown in Charity's breast was not to be so easily kept down, and more than once it showed itself in such intensity as seemed to render a full disclosure of all the circumstances then and there impossible to be avoided. The beautyous Mary, too, with all the glory of her conquest fresh upon her, so probed and lanced the rankling disappointment of her sister by her capricious heirs and thousand little trials of Mr. Jonas's obedience, that she almost goaded her into a fit of madness and obliged her to retire from table in a burst of passion hardly less vehement than that to which she had abandoned herself in the first tumult of her wrath. The constraint imposed upon the family by the presence among them for the first time of Mary Graham, for by that name old Martin Chuzzlewood had introduced her, did not at all improve this state of things. Gentle and quiet, though her manner was, Mr. Pecksniff's situation was peculiarly trying, for what with having constantly to keep peace between his daughters, to maintain a reasonable show of affection and unity in his household, to curb the growing ease and gaiety of Jonas which vented itself in sundry insolences towards Mr. Pinch and an indefinable coarseness of manner in reference to Mary, they being the two dependents, to make no mention at all of his having perpetually to conciliate his rich old relative and to smooth down or explain away some of the ten thousand bad appearances and combinations of bad appearances by which they were surrounded on that unlucky evening. What was having to do this, and it would be difficult to sum up how much more, without the least relief or assistance from anybody, it may be easily imagined that Mr. Pecksniff had in his enjoyment something more than that usual portion of alloy which is mixed up with the best of men's delights. Perhaps he had never in his life felt such relief as when old Martin looking at his watch announced that it was time to go. We have rooms, he said, at the dragon for the present. I have a fancy for the evening walk. The nights are dark just now. Perhaps Mr. Pinch would not object to light us home. My dear sir, cried Pecksniff, I shall be delighted. Mary, my child, the lantern. The lantern, if you please, my dear, said Martin, but I couldn't think of taking your father out of doors tonight, and to be brief I won't. Mr. Pecksniff already had his hat in his hand, but it was so emphatically said that he paused. I take Mr. Pinch or go alone, said Martin, which shall it be? It shall be Thomas, sir, cried Pecksniff, since you are so resolute upon it. Thomas, my friend, be very careful, if you please. Tom was in some need of this injunction, for he felt so nervous and trembled to such a degree that he found it difficult to hold the lantern. How much more difficult when, at the old man's bidding, she drew her hand through his, Tom pinched his arm. And so Mr. Pinch said Martin, on the way, you are very comfortably situated here, are you? Tom answered, with even more than his usual enthusiasm, that he was under obligations to Mr. Pecksniff, which the devotion of a lifetime would but imperfectly repay. How long have you known my nephew? asked Martin. Your nephew, sir, faltered Tom. Mr. Jonas Chuzzawit, said Mary. Oh, dear yes, cried Tom, greatly relieved, for his mind was running upon Martin. Certainly I never spoke to him before tonight, sir. Perhaps half a lifetime was suffice for the acknowledgment of his kindness, observed the old man. Tom felt that this was a rebuff for him and could not but understand it as a left-handed hit at his employer, so he was silent. Nurry felt that Mr. Pinch was not remarkable for presence of mind and that he could not say too little under existing circumstances, so she was silent. The old man, disgusted by what in his suspicious nature he considered a shameless and fulsome puff of Mr. Pecksniff, which was a part of Tom's hired service and in which he was determined to persevere, set him down at once for a deceitful, servile, miserable fauna, so he was silent. And though they were all sufficiently uncomfortable, it is fair to say that Martin was perhaps the most so, for he had felt kindly towards Tom at first and had been interested by his seeming simplicity. You're like the rest, he thought, glancing at the face of the unconscious Tom. You had nearly imposed upon me, but you have lost your labor. You were too zealous a toad-eater and betray yourself, Mr. Pinch. During the whole remainder of the walk, not another word was spoken. First among the meetings to which Tom had long looked forward with a beating heart, it was memorable for nothing but embarrassment and confusion. They parted at the dragon door and sighing as he extinguished the candle in the lantern, Tom turned back again over the gloomy fields. As he approached the first style, which was in a lonely part made very dark by a plantation of young furs, a man slipped past him and went on before. Coming to the style, he stopped and took his seat upon it. Tom was rather startled and for a moment stood still, but he stepped forward again immediately and went close up to him. It was Jonas, swinging his legs to and fro, sucking the head of a stick and looking with a sneer at Tom. Good gracious me, Cread Tom, who would have thought of its being you? You followed us then? What's that to you, said Jonas? Go to the devil. You are not very civil, I think, remarked Tom. Civil enough for you, retorted Jonas, who are you? One who has as good a right to common consideration as another, said Tom mildly. You're a liar, said Jonas. You haven't a right to any consideration. You haven't a right to anything. You're a pretty sort of fellow to talk about your rights upon my soul. Ha-ha, rights, too. If you proceed in this way, returned Tom, reddening, you will oblige me to talk about my wrongs, but I hope your joke is over. It's the way with you, Curse, said Mr. Jonas, that when you know a man's in real earnest, you pretend to think he's joking, so that you may turn it off. But that won't do with me. It's too stale. Now just attend to me for a bit, Mr. Pitch, or witch, or stitch, or whatever your name is. My name is Pinch, observed Tom. Have the goodness to call me by it. What? You mustn't even be called out of your name, mustn't you? Cried Jonas. Pauper apprentices are looking up, I think. E. Cod, we manage them a little better in the city. Never mind what you do in the city, said Tom. What have you got to say to me? Just this, Mr. Pinch, retorted Jonas, thrusting his face so close to Tom's, that Tom was obliged to retreat a step. I advise you to keep your own counsel, and to avoid tittle-tattle, and not to cut in where you're not wanted. I've heard something of you, my friend, in your meek ways, and I recommend you to forget them till I am married to one of Peck-sniff's gals, and not to curry favor among my relations, but to leave the course clear. You know, when currs won't leave the course clear, they're whipped off. So this is kind advice, do you understand? A. Dammy, who are you? cried Jonas, with increased contempt, that you should walk home with them, unless it was behind them, like any other servant out of livery. Come, cried Tom, I see that you had better get off the stile, and let me pursue my way home. Make room for me, if you please. Don't think it, said Jonas, spreading out his legs. Not till I choose, and I don't choose now. What? You're afraid of my making you split upon some of your babbling just now? Are you? Sneak? I am not afraid of many things, I hope, said Tom, and certainly not of anything that you will do. I am not a tail-bearer, and I despise all meanness. You quite mistake me. Ah! cried Tom indignantly. Is this manly from one in your position to one in mine? Please, to make room for me to pass. The less I say, the better. The less you say, retorted Jonas, dangling his legs the more, and taking no heed of this request. You say very little, don't you? E. Cottish should like to know what goes on between you and a vagabond member of my family. There's very little in that, too, I daresay. I know no vagabond member of your family, cried Tom stoutly. You do, said Jonas. I don't, said Tom. Your uncle's namesake, if you mean him, is no vagabond. Any comparison between you and him, Tom snapped his fingers at him, for he was rising fast in wrath, is immeasurably to your disadvantage. Oh, indeed, sneered Jonas. And what do you think of his dearie, his beggarly leavings, eh, Mr. Pinch? I don't mean to say another word or stay here another instant, replied Tom. As I told you before, you're a liar, said Jonas coolly. You'll stay here till I give you leave to go. Now keep where you are, will you? He flourished his stick over Tom's head, but in a moment it was spinning harmlessly in the air, and Jonas himself lay sprawling in the ditch. In the momentary struggle for the stick, Tom had brought it into violent contact with his opponent's forehead, and the blood welled out profusely from a deep cut on the temple. Tom was first surprised of this, by seeing that he pressed his handkerchief to the wounded part, and staggered as he rose, being stunned. Are you hurt, said Tom? I am very sorry, lean on me for a moment. You can do that without forgiving me, if you still bear me, malice, but I don't know why, for I never offended you before we met on this spot. He made him no answer, not appearing at first to understand him, or even to know that he was hurt, though he several times took his handkerchief from the cut to look vacantly at the blood upon it. After one of these examinations he looked at Tom, and then there was an expression in his features which showed that he understood what had taken place and would remember it. Nothing more passed between them as they went home. Jonas kept a little in advance, and Tom Pinch sadly followed, thinking of the grief which the knowledge of this quarrel must occasion his excellent benefactor. When Jonas knocked at the door, Tom's heart beat high, higher when Miss Mercy answered it, and seeing her wounded lover shriek the loud, higher when he followed them into the family parlor, higher than at any other time when Jonas spoke. Don't make a noise about it, he said. It's nothing worth mentioning, I didn't know the road. The night's very dark, and just as I came up with Mr. Pinch, he turned his face towards Tom, but not his eyes. I ran against the tree, it's only skin deep. Cold water, Mary, my child, cried Mr. Pexnip. Brown paper, scissors, a piece of old linen. Charity, my dear, make a bandage. Bless me, Mr. Jonas. Oh, bother your nonsense, return the gracious son-in-law elect. Be of some use if you can, if you can't get out. Miss Charity, though called upon to lend her aid, sat upright in one corner with a smile upon her face and didn't move a finger. Though Mercy laved the wound herself, and Mr. Pexnip held the patient's head between his two hands, as if without that assistance it must inevitably come in half, and Tom Pinch, in his guilty agitation, shook a bottle of Dutch drops until there were nothing but English froth, and in his other hand sustained a formidable carving knife, really intended to reduce the swelling, but apparently designed for the ruthless inflection of another wound as soon as that was dressed. Charity rendered not the least assistance nor uttered a word. But when Mr. Jonas' head was bound up and he had gone to bed, and everybody else had retired and the house was quiet, Mr. Pinch, as he sat mournfully on his bedstead ruminating, heard a gentle tap at his door, and opening it saw her, to his great astonishment, standing before him with her finger on her lip. Mr. Pinch, she whispered, Dear Mr. Pinch, tell me the truth, you did that. There was some quarrel between you and you struck him? I am sure of it. It was the first time she had ever spoken kindly to Tom in all the many years they had passed together. He was stupefied with amazement. Was it so or not? She eagerly demanded. I was very much provoked, said Tom. Then it was, cried Charity with sparkling eyes. Yes, we had a struggle for the path, said Tom, but I didn't mean to hurt him so much. Not so much, she repeated, clenching her hand and stamping her foot to Tom's great wonder. Don't say that. It was brave of you. I honor you for it. If you should ever quarrel again, don't spare him for the world, but beat him down and set your shoe upon him. Not a word of this to anybody. Dear Mr. Pinch, I am your friend from tonight. I am always your friend from this time. She turned her flushed face upon Tom to confirm her words by its kindling expression, and, seizing his right hand, pressed it to her breast and kissed it. And there was nothing personal in this to render it at all embarrassing, for even Tom, whose power of observation was by no means remarkable, knew from the energy with which she did it that she would have fondled any hand, no matter how bedaubed or dyed, that had broken the head of Jonas Chuzzalit. Tom went into his room and went to bed, full of uncomfortable thoughts, that there should be any such tremendous division in the family as he knew must have taken place to convert Charity Pexnip into his friend for any reason, but above all for that which was clearly the real one, that Jonas, who had assailed him with such exceeding coarseness, should have been sufficiently magnanimous to keep the secret of their quarrel, and that any train of circumstances should have led to the commission of an assault and battery by Thomas Pinch upon any man calling himself the friend of Seth Pexnip, were matters of such deep and painful cogitation that he could not close his eyes. His own violence in particular, so preyed upon the generous mind of Tom that coupling it with the many former occasions on which he had given Mr. Pexnip pain and anxiety, occasions of which that gentleman often reminded him, he really began to regard himself as destined by a mysterious fate to be the evil genius and bad angel of his patron. But he fell asleep at last and dreamed new source of waking uneasiness that he had betrayed his trust and run away with Mary Graham. It must be acknowledged that asleep or awake Tom's position in reference to this young lady was full of uneasiness. The more he saw of her, the more he admired her beauty, her intelligence, the amiable qualities that even won on the divided house of Pexnip. And in a few days restored at all events the semblance of harmony and kindness between the angry sisters. When she spoke, Tom held his breath, so eagerly he listened. When she sang, he sat like one entranced. She touched his organ and from that bright epic even it the old companion of his happiest hours, incapable as he had thought of elevation, began a new and deified existence. God's love upon thy patience, Tom, who that had beheld thee for three summer weeks pouring through half the dead long night over the jingling anatomy of that inscrutable old harpsichord in the back parlor could have missed the entrance to thy secret heart, albeit it was dimly known to thee, who that had seen the glow upon thy cheek when leaning down to listen after hours of labor for the sound of one incorrigible note thou foundest that it had a voice at last and wheezed out a flat something distantly akin to what it ought to be would not have known that it was destined for no common touch but one that smote, though gently as an angel's hand upon the deepest cord within thee. And if a friendly glance, I, even though it were as guileless as thine own, dear Tom, could have but pierced the twilight of that evening, when in a voice well tempered to the time, sad, sweet, and low, yet hopeful, she first sang to the altered instrument and wondered at the change, and thou, sitting apart at the open window, kept a glad silence in the swelling heart, must not that glance have read perforce the dawning of a story, Tom, that it were well for thee had never been begun. Tom Pinch's situation was not made the less dangerous or difficult by the fact of no one word passing between them in reference to Martin. Honorably mindful of his promise, Tom gave her opportunities of all kinds. Early and late he was in the church, in her favorite walks, in the village, in the garden, in the meadows, and in any or all of these places he might have spoken freely. But no, at all such times she carefully avoided him, or never came in his way unaccompanied. It could not be that she disliked or distrusted him, for by a thousand little delicate means, too slight for any notice but his own, she singled him out when others were present, and showed herself the very soul of kindness. Could it be that she had broken with Martin, or had never returned his affection, saving his own bold and heightened fancy? Tom's cheek grew red with self-reproach as he dismissed the thought. All this time old Martin came and went in his own strange manner, or sat among the rest absorbed within himself, and holding little intercourse with anyone. Although he was unsocial, he was not willful in other things, or troublesome, or morose. Being never better pleased than when they left him quite unnoticed at his book, and pursued their own amusements in his presence, unreserved. It was impossible to discern in whom he took an interest, or whether he had an interest in any of them. Unless they spoke to him directly, he never showed that he had ears or eyes for anything that passed. One day the lively Mary, sitting with downcast eyes under a shady tree in the churchyard, whether she had retired after fatiguing herself by the imposition of sundry trials on the temper of Mr. Jonas, felt that a new shadow came between her and the sun. Raising her eyes in the expectation of seeing her betrothed, she was not a little surprised to see old Martin instead. Her surprise was not diminished when he took his seat upon the turf beside her, and opened a conversation thus. When are you to be married? Oh, dear Mr. Chuzzlewood, my goodness me, I'm sure I don't know, not yet a while, I hope. You hope, said the old man. It was very gravely said, but she took it for banter and giggled excessively. Come, said the old man, with unusual kindness, you are young, good-looking, and I think good-natured, frivolous you are, and love to be, undoubtedly, but you must have some heart. I have not given it all away, I can tell you, said Mary, nodding her head shrewdly and plucking up the grass. Have you parted with any of it? She threw the grass about and looked another way, but said nothing. Martin repeated his question. Lord, my dear Mr. Chuzzlewood, really you must excuse me, how very odd you are. If it be odd in me to desire to know whether you love the young man whom I understand you are to marry, I am very odd, said Martin, for that is certainly my wish. He's such a monster, you know, said Mary, pouting. Then you don't love him? Return to the old man? Is that your meaning? Why, my dear Mr. Chuzzlewood, I'm sure I tell him a hundred times a day that I hate him. You must have heard me tell him that. Often, said Martin, and so I do, cried Mary, I do positively. Being at the same time engaged to marry him, observed the old man. Oh, yes, said Mary, but I told the wretch, my dear Mr. Chuzzlewood, I told him when he asked me that if I ever did marry him, it should only be that I might hate and tease him all my life. She had a suspicion that the old man regarded Jonas with anything but favor, and intended these remarks to be extremely captivating. He did not appear, however, to regard them in that light by any means, for when he spoke again it was in a tone of severity. Look about you, he said, pointing to the graves, and remember that from your bridal hour to the day which sees you brought as low as these and laid in such a bed, there will be no appeal against him. Think and speak and act for once like an accountable creature. Is any control put upon your inclinations? Are you forced into this match? Are you insidiously advised or tempted to contract it by anyone? I will not ask by whom, by anyone? No, said Mary, shrugging her shoulders. I don't know that I am. Don't know that you are? Are you? No, replied Mary. Nobody ever said anything to me about it. If anyone had tried to make me have him, I wouldn't have had him at all. I am told that he was at first supposed to be your sister's admirer, said Martin. Oh, good gracious! My dear Mr. Chuzzlewood, it would be very hard to make him, though he is a monster, accountable for other people's vanity, said Mary. And poor dear Cherry is the Venus, darling. It was her mistake then. I hope it was, cried Mary. But all along the dear child has been so dreadfully jealous and so cross that upon my word and honor it's impossible to please her, and it's of no use trying. Not forced, persuaded, or controlled, said Martin thoughtfully. And that's true, I see. There is one chance yet. You may have lapsed into this engagement in very giddiness. It may have been the wanton act of a light head. Is that so? My dear Mr. Chuzzlewood, simpered Mary, as to light-headedness there never was such a feather of a head as mine. It's perfect balloon, I declare. You never did, you know. He waited quietly till she had finished and then said, steadily and slowly and in a softened voice as if he would still invite her confidence. Have you any wish, or is there anything within your breast that whispers you may form the wish if you have time to think, to be released from this engagement? Again Miss Mary pouted and looked down and plucked the grass and shrugged her shoulders. No, she didn't know that she had. She was pretty sure she hadn't. Quite sure, she might say. She didn't mind it. Has it ever occurred to you, said Martin, that your married life may perhaps be miserable, full of bitterness and most unhappy? Mary looked down again, and now she tore the grass up by the roots. My dear Mr. Chuzzlewit, what shocking words. Of course I shall quarrel with him. I should quarrel with any husband. Married people always quarrel, I believe. But as to being miserable and bitter and all those dreadful things, you know why I couldn't be absolutely that unless he always had the best of it, and I mean to have the best of it myself. I always do now, cried Mary, nodding her head and giggling very much. For I make a perfect slave of the creature. Let it go on, said Martin Rising. Let it go on. I sought to know your mind, my dear, and you have shown at me. I wish you joy, joy, he repeated, looking full upon her and pointing to the wicked gate where Jonas entered at the moment. And then, without waiting for his nephew, he passed out at another gate and went away. Oh, you terrible old man, cried the facetious Mary to herself. What a perfectly hideous monster to be wandering about church yards in the broad daylight, frightening people out of their wits. Don't come here, Griffin, or I'll go away directly. Mr. Jonas was the Griffin. He sat down upon the grass at her side in spite of this warning and sulkily inquired. What's my uncle been a-talking about? About you, rejoined Mary. He says you're not half good enough for me. Oh, yes, I dare say we all know that. He means to give you some present worth having, I hope. Did he say anything that looked like it? That he didn't, cried Mary, most decisively. A stingy old dog he is, said Jonas. Well, Griffin cried Miss Mercy in counterfeit amazement. What are you doing, Griffin? Only giving you a squeeze, said the discomforted Jonas. There's no harm in that, I suppose. But there is great deal of harm in it if I don't consider it agreeable, returned his cousin. Do go along, will you? You make me so hot. Mr. Jonas withdrew his arm and for a moment looked at her more like a murderer than a lover. But he cleared his brow by degrees and broke silence with, I say, Mal. What do you say, you vulgar thing, you low savage? cried his fair betrothed. When is it to be? I can't afford to go on dawdling about here half my life, I needn't tell you. And Pexniff says that father's being so lately dead makes very little odds, for we can be married as quiet as we please down here. And my being lonely is a good reason to the neighbors for taking a wife home so soon, especially one that he knew. As to crossbones, my uncle, I mean, he's sure not to put a spoke in the wheel, whatever we settle on, for he told Pexniff only this morning that if you liked it, he'd nothing at all to say. So Mal, said Jonas, venturing on another squeeze, when shall it be? Upon my word, cried Mary, upon my soul, if you like, said Jonas, what do you say to next week now? To next week, if you had said next quarter, I should have wondered at your impudence. But I didn't say next quarter, retorted Jonas, I said next week. Then Griffin, cried Miss Mary, pushing him off and rising, I say no, not next week, it shan't be till I choose, and I may not choose it to be for months, there. He glanced up at her from the ground, almost as darkly as he had looked at Tom Pinch. But held his peace. No fright of a Griffin with a patch over his eye shall dictate to me or have a voice in the matter, said Mary, there. Still, Mr. Jonas held his peace. If it's next month, that shall be the very earliest, but I won't say when it shall be till tomorrow, and if you don't like that, it shall never be at all, said Mary, and if you follow me about and won't leave me alone, it shall never be at all, there. And if you don't do everything I order you to do, it shall never be at all. So don't follow me, there, Griffin. And with that she skipped away among the trees. Eek cod, my lady, said Jonas, looking after her and biting a piece of straw, almost a powder. You'll catch it for this when you are married. It's all very well now, it keeps one on somehow, and you know it. But I'll pay you off, scotting lot, by and by. This is a plaguey dull sort of a place for a man to be sitting by himself in, I never could have buyed a moldy old churchyard. As he turned into the avenue himself, Miss Mary, who was far ahead, happened to look back. Ah, said Jonas, with a sullen smile, and a nod that was not addressed to her. Make the most of it while it lasts. Get in your hay while the sun shines. Take your own way, as long as it's in your power, my lady. End of Chapter 24 Chapter 25 of Life and Adventures of Martin Chuzzlewit This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Life and Adventures of Martin Chuzzlewit by Charles Dickens. Chapter 25 is in part professional and furnishes the reader with some valuable hints in relation to the management of a sick chamber. Mr. Mould was surrounded by his household gods. He was enjoying the sweets of domestic repose and gazing on them with a calm delight. The day being sultry and the window open, the legs of Mr. Mould were on the window seat and his back reclined against the shutter. Over his shining head a handkerchief was drawn to guard his baldness from the flies. The room was fragrant with the smell of punch, a tumbler of which grateful compound stood upon a small round table convenient to the hand of Mr. Mould. So deftly mixed that as his eye looked down into the cool transparent drink, another eye, peering brightly from behind the crisp lemon peel, looked up at him and twinkled like a star. Deep in the city and within the ward of cheap stood Mr. Mould's establishment, his harem, or in other words the common sitting room of Mrs. Mould and family, was at the back over the little counting house behind the shop, abutting on a churchyard small and shady. In this domestic chamber Mr. Mould now sat, gazing a placid man upon his punch and home. If for a moment at a time he saw a wider prospect once he might return with fresh and desist to these enjoyments, his moist glance wandered like a sunbeam through a rural screen of scarlet runners trained on strings before the window, and he looked down with an artist's eye upon the graves. The partner of his life and daughter's twain were Mr. Mould's companions. Plump as any partridge was each Ms. Mould, and Mrs. M was plumper than the two together. So round and chubby were their fair proportions that they might have been the bodies once belonging to the angels' faces in the shop below, grown up with other heads attached to make them mortal. Even their peachy cheeks were puffed out and distended, as though they ought of right to be performing on celestial trumpets. The bodyless cherubs in the shop, who were depicted as constantly blowing those instruments for ever and ever without any lungs, played, it is to be presumed, entirely by ear. Mr. Mould looked lovingly at Mrs. Mould, who sat hard by and was a helpmate to him in his punch, as in all other things. Each seraph daughter, too, enjoyed her share of his regards, and smiled upon him in return. So bountiful were Mr. Mould's possessions, and so large his stock in trade, that even there, within his household sanctuary, stood a cumbrous press, whose mahogany maw was filled with shrouds and winding sheets and other furniture of funerals. But though the Mrs. Mould had been brought up, as one may say, beneath his eye, it had cast no shadow on their timid infancy or blooming youth. Sporting behind the scenes of death and burial from cradlehood, the Mrs. Mould knew better. Hat bands to them were but so many yards of silk or crepe, the final robe but such a quantity of linen. The Mrs. Mould could idealize a player's habit, or a courtlady's petticoat, or even an act of parliament. But they were not to be taken in by Paul's. They made them sometimes. The premises of Mr. Mould were hard of hearing to the boisterous noises in the great main streets, and nestled in a quiet corner, where the city strife became a drowsy hum, that sometimes rose and sometimes fell, and sometimes altogether ceased, suggesting to a thoughtful mind a stoppage and cheap side. The light came sparkling in among the scarlet runners, as if the churchyard winked at Mr. Mould and said, we understand each other, and from the distant shop a pleasant sound arose of coffin-making with a low melodious hammer, rat-tat-tat-tat, a light promoting slumber and digestion. Quite the buzz of insects said Mr. Mould, closing his eyes in a perfect luxury. It puts one in mind of the sound of animated nature in the agricultural districts. It's exactly like the woodpecker-tapping. The woodpecker-tapping, the hollow elm tree, observed Mrs. Mould, adapting the words of the popular melody to the description of wood commonly used in the trade. Laughter, Mr. Mould, not at all bad, my dear. We shall be glad to hear from you again, Mrs. M. Hollow elm tree, A. Very good indeed. I've seen worse than that in the Sunday papers, my love. Mrs. Mould, thus encouraged, took a little more of the punch and handed it to her daughters, who dutifully followed the example of their mother. Hollow elm tree, A., said Mr. Mould, making a slight motion with his legs in his enjoyment of the joke. It's beach in the song. Elm, A. Yes, to be sure. Upon my soul, that's one of the best things I know. He was so excessively tickled by the jest that he couldn't forget it, but repeated twenty times. Elm, A., yes, to be sure. Elm, of course. Upon my life, you know, that ought to be sent to somebody who could make use of it. It's one of the smartest things that ever was said. Hollow elm tree, A., of course. Very hollow. Here a knock was heard at the room door. That's tacker, I know, said Mrs. Mould, by the wheezing he makes. Who that hears him now would suppose he'd ever had wind enough to carry the feathers on his head. Come in, tacker. Beg your pardon, ma'am, said tacker, looking in a little way. I thought our governor was here. Well, so he is, cried Mould. Oh, I didn't see you, I'm sure, said tacker, looking in a little farther. You wouldn't be inclined to take a walking one of two with a plain wood and a tin plate, I suppose. Certainly not, replied Mr. Mould, much too common. Nothing to say to it. I told him it was precious and low, observed Mr. Tacker. Tell him to go somewhere else. We don't do that style of business here, said Mr. Mould. Like there are impudence to propose it. Who is it? Why return, tacker, pausing? That's where it is, you see. It's the Beatles' son-in-law. The Beatles' son-in-law, A., said Mould. Well, I'll do it if the Beatles follows in his cocked hat, not else. We carry it off that way by looking official, but it'll be low enough then. His cocked hat, mined. I'll take care, sir, rejoined tacker. Oh, Mrs. Gamp's blown, wants to speak to you. Tell Mrs. Gamp to come upstairs, said Mould. Now, Mrs. Gamp, what's your news? The lady in question was, by this time in the doorway, curtsying to Mrs. Mould. At the same moment a peculiar fragrance was born upon the breeze, as if a passing fairy had hiccupped, and had previously been to a wine vault. Mrs. Gamp made no response to Mr. Mould, but curtsied to Mrs. Mould again, and held up her hands and eyes, as in a devout thanksgiving that she looked so well. She was neatly, but not godly, attired in the weeds she had worn when Mr. Pexniff had the pleasure of making her acquaintance, and was perhaps the turning of a scale more snuffy. There are some happy creatures, Mrs. Gamp observed, as time runs backwards with, and you are one, Mrs. Mould, not that he need do nothing except use you in his most audacious way for years to come, I'm sure. For young you are, and will be. I says to Mrs. Harris, Mrs. Gamp continued, only to other day, the last Monday evening, Fortnight, is ever dawned upon this Pilgian's projus of a mortal wail. I says to Mrs. Harris, when she says to me, Years in our trials, Mrs. Gamp sets marks upon us all. Say not the words, Mrs. Harris, if you and me is to be continual friends, for such is not the case. Mrs. Mould, I says, making so free, I will confess, as you use the name, she curtsied here, is one of them that goes again the observation straight, and never, Mrs. Harris, whilst I have a drop of breath to draw, while I set by and not stand up. Don't think it's too late, I ask your pardon, ma'am, says Mrs. Harris, and I humbly grant your grace, for if ever a woman lived as would see her fellow-creatures into fits to serve her friends, well do I know that woman's name is Sarah Gamp. At this point she was feigned to stop for breath, and advantage may be taken of the circumstance to state that a fearful mystery surrounded this lady of the name of Harris, who no one in the circle had ever seen. Neither did any human being know her place of residence, though Mrs. Gamp appeared on her own showing to be in constant communication with her. There were conflicting rumors on the subject, but the prevalent opinion was that she was a phantom of Mrs. Gamp's brain, as Messrs. Doe and Rowe are fictions of the law, created for the express purpose of holding visionary dialogues with her on all manner of subjects, gradually winding up with a compliment to the excellence of her nature. And likewise, what a pleasure, said Mrs. Gamp, turning with a tearful smile towards the daughters, to see them two young ladies, as I know, for a tooth in their pretty heads was cut, and have many a day seen, ah, the sweet-creatures playing at barrions down in the shop and following the order book to its long home in the iron safe, but that's all past and over, Mr. Mold, as she thus got in a carefully regulated routine to that gentleman, she shook her head waggishly. That's all past and over now, sir, innit? Changes, Mrs. Gamp, changes, return to the undertaker. More changes, too, to come before we've done with changes, sir, said Mrs. Gamp, nodding yet more waggishly than before. Young ladies with such faces think of something else besides barrions, don't they, sir? I am sure I don't know, sir, Mrs. Gamp, said Mold with a chuckle. Not bad in Mrs. Gamp, my dear. Oh, yes, you do know, sir, said Mrs. Gamp, and so does Mrs. Mold, your handsome partner, too, sir, and so do I, although the blessing of a daughter was deniged me. Which, if we had had one, Gamp would certainly have drunk its little shoes right off its feet, as with our precious boy he did, and Artiward sent the child of Aaron to sell his wooden leg for any money for his matches in the rough and bring it home in liquor, which was truly done beyond his years. For every individual penny that child lost at toss or buy for kidney ones, and come home Artiward's quite bold to break the news and offering to drown himself if such would be a satisfaction to his parents. Oh, yes, you do know, sir, said Mrs. Gamp, wiping her eye with her shawl and resuming the thread of her discourse. Mr. Mold winked at Mrs. Mold, whom he had by this time taken on his knee, and said, No doubt a good deal more, Mrs. Gamp, upon my life Mrs. Gamp is very far from bad, my dear. There is marrying, said Mrs. Gamp, while both the daughters blushed and tittered, blessed their precious hearts, and while they knows it. While you knowed it, too, and well did Mrs. Mold your time of life, but my opinion is you're all of one age now, for as to you and Mrs. Mold, sir, ever having grandchildren. Oh, five-five, nonsense, Mrs. Gamp, replied the undertaker. Devilish, smart, though, capital! This was in a whisper. My dear, aloud again, Mrs. Gamp can drink a glass of rum, I dare say. Sit down, Mrs. Gamp, sit down. Mrs. Gamp took the chair out of the door, and casting up her eyes towards the ceiling, feigned to be wholly insensible to the fact of a glass of rum being in preparation, until it was placed in her hand by one of the young ladies when she exhibited the greatest surprise. A thing, she said, as hardly ever, Mrs. Mold, occurs with me, unless it is when I am indisposed, and find my half a pint of porter settling heavy on the chest. To me, Sarah Gamp, she says, you rally do amaze me. Mrs. Harris, I says to her, why so? Give it a name, I beg. Telling the truth then, ma'am, says Mrs. Harris, and shaming him it shall be nameless, betwixt you and me. Never did I think till I knowed you, as any woman could sick nurse and monthly likewise on the little that you takes to drink. Mrs. Harris, I says to her, none in us knows what we can do till we tries, and once, Mrs. Gamp kept house, I thought so too, but now, I says, my half a pint of porter fully satisfies. Purwise in, Mrs. Harris, that it is brought regular and drawed mild. Whether I six or monthlies, ma'am, I hope I does my duty, but I am but a poor woman, and I earned my living hard. Therefore, I do require it, which I makes confession to be brought regular and drawed mild. The precise connection these observations and the glass of rum did not appear. For Mrs. Gamp, proposing as a toast, the best of luck to all took off the dram in quite a scientific manner, without any further remarks. And what's your news, Mrs. Gamp asked Mold again, as that lady wiped her lips upon her shawl, and nibbled a corner off a soft biscuit which she appeared to carry in her pocket as a provision against contingent drams. How's Mr. Chuffy? Mr. Chuffy, sir, she replied, is just as usual. He ain't no better and he ain't no worse. I take it very kind in the gentleman to have rode up to you and said let Mrs. Gamp take care of him till I come home. But everything he does is kind. There aren't many like him. If there was, we shouldn't want no churches. What do you want to speak to me about, Mrs. Gamp? Said Mold, coming to the point. Just this, sir, Mrs. Gamp returned, with thanks to you for asking. There is a gent, sir, at the bull in Holborn, as has been took ill there and is bad a bed. They have a day nurse, as was recommended from Bartholomew's, and well I knows her, Mr. Mold, her name being Mrs. Prigd, the best of creatures. But she is other ways engaged at night, and there in wants of night-watching. Consequence, she says to them, having reposed the greatest friendliness in me for twenty years, the soberest person going, and the best of blessings in a sick room is Mrs. Gamp. Send the boy to Kingsgate Street, she says, and snap her up at any price, for Mrs. Gamp is worth her weight and more in Goldie and Guineas. My landlord brings the message down to me, and says, being in a light place where you are, and this job promising so well, why not unite the two? No, sir, I says, and therefore do not think it. But I will go to Mr. Mold, I says, and ask him, if you like. Here, she looked sideways at the undertaker and came to a stop. Night-watching, eh? said Mold, rubbing his chin. From eight o'clock till eight, sir, I will not deceive you, Mrs. Gamp rejoined. And then go back, eh? said Mold. Quite free then, sir, to attend to Mr. Chuffy. His ways bein' quiet, and his hours early he'd be a bed, sir, nearly all the time. I will not deny, said Mrs. Gamp, with meekness, that I am but a poor woman and that the money is an object. But do not let that act upon you, Mr. Mold. Rich folks may ride on camels, but it ain't so easy for them to see out of a needle's eye. That is my comfort, and I hope I knows it. Well, Mrs. Gamp, observed Mold, I don't see any particular objection to your earning an honest penny under such circumstances. I should keep it quiet, I think, Mrs. Gamp. I wouldn't mention it to Mr. Chuzzlewood on his return, for instance, unless it were necessary, or he asked you point blank. The very words was on my lips, sir, Mrs. Gamp rejoined, supposing that the gent should die. I hope I might take the liberty of saying as I know'd summon in the undertaking line and yet give no offence to you, sir. Certainly, Mrs. Gamp, said Mold, with much condescension, visually remark in such a case that we do the thing pleasantly and in a great variety of styles, and are generally considered to make it as agreeable as possible to the feelings of the survivors. But don't obtrude it, don't obtrude it. Easy, easy. My dear, you may as well give Mrs. Gamp a card or two, if you please. Mrs. Gamp received them, and senting no more rum in the wind for the bottle was locked up again, rose to take her departure. Having every happiness to this happy family, said Mrs. Gamp, with all my heart, good afternoon, Mrs. Mold. If I was Mr. Mold, I should be jealous of you, ma'am, and I'm sure if I was you, I should be jealous of Mr. Mold. Tut, tut, baa, baa, go along, Mrs. Gamp, cried the delighted undertaker. As to the young ladies, said Mrs. Gamp, dropping a curtsy, blessed their sweet looks, how they can ever recognize it so grown up with such young parents, it ain't for such as me to give a guess at. Nonsense, nonsense. Be off, Mrs. Gamp, cried Mold, but in the height of his gratification he actually pinched Mrs. Mold as he said it. I'll tell you what, my dear, he observed when Mrs. Gamp had it last withdrawn and shut the door. That's a very shrewd woman. That's a woman whose intellect is immensely superior to her station in life. That's a woman who observes and reflects in an uncommon manner. She is the sort of woman now, said Mold, drawing his silk handkerchief over his head again and composing himself for a nap. One would almost feel disposed to bury for nothing and do it neatly too. Mrs. Mold and her daughters fully concurred in these remarks, the subject of which had by this time reached the street where she experienced so much inconvenience from the air that she was obliged under an archway for a short time to recover herself. Even after this precaution she walked so unsteadily as to attract the compassionate regards of diverse, kind-hearted boys who took the liveliest interest in her disorder, and in their simple language bade her be of good cheer for she was only a little screwed. Whatever she was or whatever name the vocabulary of medical science would have bestowed perfectly acquainted with the way home again, and arriving at the house of Anthony Chuzzlewood and son lay down to rest, remaining there until seven o'clock in the evening and then persuading poor old Chuffy to be taken self to bed she sallied forth upon her new engagement. First she went to her private lodgings in Kingsgate Street for a bundle of robes and wrappings comfortable in the night season and then repaired to the bull in Holborn which she reached where the robes were striking eight. As she turned into the yard she stopped for the landlord, landlady, and head chambermaid were all on the threshold together talking earnestly with a young gentleman who seemed to have just come or to be just going away. The first words that struck upon Mrs. Gamp's ear obviously bore reference to the patient and it being expedient that all good attendants should know as much as possible about the case on which their skill is brought to bear, Mrs. Gamp listened as a matter of duty. No better than observed the gentleman, worse, said the landlord, much worse, added the landlady. Oh, a deal-batter! cried the chambermaid from the background opening her eyes very wide and shaking her head. Poor fellow, said the gentleman, I am sorry to hear it. The worst of it is that I have no idea of the conditions he has or where they live, except that it certainly is not in London. The landlord looked at the landlady, the landlady looked at the landlord and the chambermaid remarked hysterically that of all the many vague directions that she had ever seen or heard of and there wasn't few in a hotel that was the waggest. The fact is, you see, pursued the gentleman, as I told you yesterday very little about him. We were school fellows together, but since that time I have only met him twice. On both occasions I was in London for a boy's holiday, having come up for a week or so from Wiltshire and lost sight of him again directly. The letter bearing my name and address which you found upon his table and which led to your applying to me is an answer you will observe to one he wrote from this house the very day he was taken ill, and he went with him at his own request. Here is his letter if you wish to see it. The landlord read it. The landlady looked over him. The chambermaid in the background made out as much of it as she could and invented the rest, believing it all from that time forth as a positive piece of evidence. He has very little luggage, you say, observed the gentleman who was no other than our old friend John Westlock. Nothing but a portmanteau said the landlord and very little in it. A few pounds in his purse, though? Yes, it's sealed up and in the cash box. I made a memorandum of the amount which you're welcome to see. Well, said John, as the medical gentleman says the fever must take its course and nothing can be done just now beyond giving him his drinks regularly and having him carefully attended to, nothing more can be said that I know of some information. Can you suggest anything else? No, replied the landlord except who's to pay, I suppose, said John. Why, hesitated the landlord, it would be as well, quite as well, said the landlady, not forgetting to remember the servants, said the chambermaid and a bland whisper. It is but reasonable. I fully admit, said John Westlock, at all events you have the stock in hand to go upon for the present and I will readily undertake to pay the doctor and the nurses. Ah, cried Mrs. Gamp, a railed gentleman. She groaned her admiration so audibly that they all turned round. Mrs. Gamp felt the necessity of advancing, bundle in hand, and introducing herself. The night nurse she observed from Kingsgate Street well be known to Mrs. Prig, the day nurse and the best of creatures. How is the poor dear gentleman tonight? If he ain't no better yet still that is what must be expected and prepared for. It ain't the first time by a many score, ma'am, dropping a curtsy to the landlady that Mrs. Prig and me has nust together, turn and turn about, one off, one on. We know each other's ways and often gives relief when others fail. Our charges is but lo, sir, Mrs. Gamp addressed herself to John on this head, considering the nature of our painful duty. If they was made according to our wishes, they would be easy paid. Regarding herself as having now delivered her inauguration address, Mrs. Gamp curtsied all round and signified her wish to be conducted to the scene of her official duties. The chambermaid led her through a variety of intricate passages to the top of the house and pointing at length to a solitary door at the end of a gallery informed her that yonder was the chamber patiently. That done, she hurried off with all the speed she could make. Mrs. Gamp traversed the gallery in a great heat from having carried her large bundle up so many stairs and tapped at the door which was immediately opened by Mrs. Prig, monitored and shalled in all impatience to be gone. Mrs. Prig was of the Gamp build but not so fat and her voice was deeper and more like a man's. She had also a beard. I began to think you weren't a coming, Mrs. Prig observed in some displeasure. It shall be made good to Maronite, said Mrs. Gamp, honorable. I had to go and fetch my things. She had begun to make signs of inquiry in reference to the position of the patient and his overhearing them for there was a screen before the door when Mrs. Prig settled that point easily. Oh, she settled out. He's quiet, but his wits is gone. It ain't no matter what you say. Anything to tell before you goes, my dear, asked Mrs. Gamp, setting her bundle down inside the door and looking affectionately at her partner. The pickled salmon, Mrs. Prig replied, is quite delicious. I can particularly recommend it. Don't have nothing to say to the cold meat for it tastes of the stable. The drinks is all good. Mrs. Gamp expressed herself much gratified. The physic in them things drawers and mankel shelf, said Mrs. Prig cursorily. He took his last slime draft at seven. The easy chair ain't soft enough you'll want his pillar. Mrs. Gamp thanked her for these hints and giving her a friendly good night held the door open until she had disappeared at the other end of the gallery. Having thus performed the hospitable duty of seeing her safely off, she shut it, locked it on the inside, took up her bundle, walked round the screen and captured on her occupation of the sick chamber. A little dull but not so bad as might be, Mrs. Gamp remarked. I'm glad to see a parapage in case of fire and lots of roofs and chimney pots to walk upon. It will be seen from these remarks that Mrs. Gamp was looking out of window. When she had exhausted the prospect she tried the easy chair which she indignantly declared was harder than a brick badge. Next she pursued her research including the physics bottles, glasses, jugs and tea cups and when she had entirely satisfied her curiosity on all these subjects of investigation she untied her bonnet strings and strolled up to the bedside to take a look at the patient. A young man dark and not ill looking with long black hair that seemed the blacker for the whiteness of the bed clothes. His eyes were partly open and he never ceased to roll his head from side to side upon the pillow keeping his body almost quiet. He did not utter words but every now and then gave vent to an expression of impatience or fatigue sometimes of surprise and still his restless head a weary weary hour went to and fro without a moment's intermission. Mrs. Gamp solaced herself with a pinch of snuff and stood looking at him with her head inclined a little sideways as a connoisseur might gaze upon a doubtful work of art. By degrees a horrible remembrance of one branch of her calling took possession of the woman and stooping down she pinned his wandering arms against his sides to see how he would look if laid out as a dead man her fingers itched to compose his limbs in that last marble attitude. Ah! said Mrs. Gamp walking away from the bed he'd make her lovely corpse. She now proceeded to unpack her bundle lighted a candle with the aid of a firebox on the drawers filled a small kettle as a preliminary to refreshing herself with a cup of tea in the course of the night laid what she called a little bit of fire for the same philanthropic purpose and also set forth a small teaboard that nothing might be wanting for her comfortable enjoyment. These preparations occupied so long that when they were brought to a conclusion it was high time to think about supper so she rang the bell and ordered it. I think young woman said Mrs. Gamp to the assistant chambermaid in a tone expressive of weakness that I could pick a little bit of pickled salmon with a nice little sprig of fennel and a sprinkling of white pepper. It takes new bread my dear with just a little pad of fresh butter and a mossle of cheese in case there should be such a thing as a cow cumber in the house will you be so kind as bring it for I'm rather partial to them than I would in a sick room. If they draws the bright and old tipper here I take that ale at night my love it being considered wakeful by the doctors and whatever you do young woman don't bring more than a shillings worth of gin and water warm when I rings the bell a second time for that is always my allowance and I never takes a drop beyond. Having preferred these moderate requests Mrs. Gamp observed that she would stand at the door until the order was executed to the end that the patient might not be disturbed by her opening at a second time and therefore she would thank the young woman to look sharp. A tray was brought with everything upon it even to the cucumber and Mrs. Gamp accordingly sat down to eat and drink in high good humor the extent to which she availed herself of the vinegar and sucked up that refreshing fluid with the blade of her knife can scarcely be expressed in narrative. Ah Side Mrs. Gamp as she meditated over the warm shillings worth what a blessed thing it is living in a whale to be contented what a blessed thing it is to make sick people happy in their beds and never mind oneself as long as one can do a service. I don't believe a finer cow cummer was ever grow I'm sure I never see one. She moralized in the same vein until her glass was empty and then administered the patient's medicine by the simple process of clutching his windpipe to make him gasp and immediately pouring it down his throat. I almost forgot the pillar I declare said Mrs. Gamp drawing it away there now he's comfortable as he can be I'm sure I must try to make myself as much so as I can. With this view she went about the construction of an extemporaneous bed in the easy chair with the addition of the next easy one for her feet having formed the best couch that the circumstances admitted of she took out of her bundle a yellow nightcap of prodigious size in shape resembling a cabbage which article of dress she fixed and tied down with the utmost care previously divesting herself of a row of bald old curls that could scarcely be called false they were so very innocent of anything approaching to deception from the same repository she brought forth a nightjacket in which she also attired herself finally she produced a watchman's coat which she tied round her neck by the sleeves so that she became two people and looked behind as if she were in the act of being embraced by one of the old patrol all these arrangements made she lighted the rush light coiled herself up on her couch and went to sleep ghostly and dark the room became and full of lowering shadows the distant noises in the streets were gradually hushed the house was quiet as a sepulcher the dead of night was coffined in the silent city a weary weary hour a haggard mind groping darkly through the past incapable of detaching itself from the miserable present dragging its heavy chain of care through imaginary feasts and revels and scenes of awful pomp seeking but a moment's rest among the long forgotten haunts of childhood and the resorts of yesterday and dimly finding fear and horror everywhere a weary weary hour what were the wanderings of cane to these still without a moment's interval the burning head tossed to and fro still from time to time fatigue, impatience, suffering and surprise found utterance upon that rack and plainly too though never once in words at length in the solemn hour of midnight waiting awfully for answers sometimes as though invisible companions were about his bed and so replying to their speech and questioning again Mrs. Gamp awoke and sat up in her bed presenting on the wall the shadow of a gigantic knight constable struggling with a prisoner come, hold your tongue she cried in sharp reproof don't make none of that noise here there was no alteration in the face or in the incessant motion of the head but he talked on wildly ah, said Mrs. Gamp coming out of the chair with an impatient shiver I thought I was asleep and too pleasant to last, the devil's in the night I think it's turned so chilly don't drink so much cried the sick man you'll ruin us all don't you see how the fountain sinks look at the mark where the sparkling water was just now sparkling water indeed said Mrs. Gamp the sparkling cup of tea I think I wish you'd hold your noise he burst into a laugh which being prolonged fell off into a dismal wail checking himself with fierce inconstancy he began to count fast one, two, three, four, five, six one, two, buckle my shoes said Mrs. Gamp who was now on her knees lighting the fire three, four, shut the door I wish you'd shut your mouth young man five, six, picking up sticks if I'd got a few handy I should have the kettle boiling all the sooner awaiting this desirable consummation she sat down so close to the fender which was a high one that her nose rested upon it and for some time she drowsily amused herself by sliding that feature backwards and forwards along the brass top as far as she could without changing her position to do it she maintained all the while a running commentary upon the earrings of the man in bed that makes 521 men all dressed alike and with the same distortion on their faces that have passed in at the window and out at the door he cried anxiously look there 522 23, 24 do you see them ah, I see them said Mrs. Gamp all the whole kid of them numbered like hackney coaches, ain't they touch me, let me be sure of this touch me take your next draft when I made the kettle bile retorted Mrs. Gamp composedly and you'll be touched then, you'll be touched up too if you don't take it quiet 528, 529 530, look there what's the matter now said Mrs. Gamp they're coming four abreast each man with his arm entwined in the next man's and his hand upon his shoulder what's that upon the arm of every man and on the flag crabs, said Mrs. Gamp crepe, black crepe, good God why do they wear it outside would you have them carry black crepe in their insides Mrs. Gamp retorted hold your noise, hold your noise the fire beginning by this time to impart a grateful warmth Mrs. Gamp became silent gradually rubbed her nose more and more slowly along the top of the fender and fell into a heavy dose she was awakened by the room ringing she fancied with a name she knew chuzzle wit the sound was so distinct and real and so full of agonized and treaty that Mrs. Gamp jumped up in terror and ran to the door she expected to find the passage filled with people come to tell her that the house in the city had taken fire but the place was empty not a soul was there she opened the window and looked out dark, dull, dingy and desolate house tops as she passed through her seat again she glanced at the patient just the same but silent Mrs. Gamp was so warm now that she threw off the watchman's coat and fan herself it seemed to make the weary bottles ring she said, what could I have been a dreaming of that dreaded chuffy I'll be bound the supposition was probable enough at any rate a pinch of snuff and the song of the steaming kettle quite restored the tone of Mrs. Gamp's nerves which were none of the weakest she brewed her tea made some buttered toast and sat down at the teaboard with her face to the fire when once again in a tone more terrible than that which had vibrated in her slumbering ear these words were shrieked out chuzzle wit, Jonas no Mrs. Gamp dropped the cup she was in the act of raising to her lips and turned round with a start that made the little teaboard leap the cry had come from the bed it was bright morning the next time Mrs. Gamp looked out of the window and the sun was rising cheerfully lighter and lighter grew the sky and noisier the streets and high into the summer air up rose the smoke of newly kindled fires until the busy day was brought awake Mrs. Prig relieved punctually having passed a good night at her other patients Mr. Westlock came at the same time but he was not admitted the disorder being infectious the doctor came too the doctor shook his head it was all he could do under the circumstances and he did it well what sort of a nightmare restless sir said Mrs. Gamp talk much middling sir said Mrs. Gamp nothing to the purpose I suppose oh bless you no sir only jargon well said the doctor we must keep him quiet keep the room cool give him his drafts regularly and see that he's carefully looked to that's all and as long as Mrs. Prig and me waits upon him sir no fear of that said Mrs. Gamp I suppose observed Mrs. Prig when they had curtsied the doctor out there's nothing new nothing at all my dear said Mrs. Gamp he's rather wearing in his top for making up a lot of names else ways you needn't mind him oh I shan't mind him Mrs. Prig returned I have something else to think of I pays my debts tonight you know my dear and comes before my time said Mrs. Gamp but Betsy Prig, speaking with great feeling and laying her hand upon her arm try the cowcumbers God bless you End of Chapter 25 Chapter 26 of Life and Adventures of Martin Cheslewitt this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Life and Adventures of Martin Cheslewitt by Charles Dickens Chapter 26 an unexpected meeting in a promising prospect the laws of sympathy between beards and birds and the secret source of that attraction which frequently impels a shaver of the one to be a dealer in the other are questions for the subtle reasoning of scientific bodies not the less so because their investigation would seem calculated to lead to no particular result it is enough to know that the artist who had the honor of entertaining Mrs. Gamp as his first floor lodger united the two pursuits of barbering and bird fanciing and that it was not an original idea of his but one in which he had dispersed about the by streets and suburbs of the town and his rivals the name of the householder was Paul Sweetlepipe but he was commonly called Paul Sweetlepipe and was not uncommonly believed to have been so christened among his friends and neighbors with the exception of the staircase and his lodger's private apartment Paul Sweetlepipe's house was one great bird's nest Gamecocks resided in the kitchen pheasants wasted the brightness of their golden plumage on the garret phantoms roosted in the cellar owls had possession of the bedroom and specimens of all the smaller fry of birds chirped and twittered in the shop the staircase was sacred to rabbits there in hutches of all shapes and kinds made from old packing cases, boxes, drawers and tea chests they increased in a prodigious degree and contributed their share towards that complicated whiff which quite impartially and without reasons saluted every nose that was put into Sweetlepipe's easy shaving shop many noses found their way there for all that especially on Sunday morning before church time even Archbishop's shave or must be shaved on a Sunday and beards will grow after twelve o'clock on Saturday night though it be upon the chins of base mechanics who not being able to engage and pay them oh the wickedness of copper coin in dirty pence Paul Sweetlepipe the sinner shaved all comers at a penny each and cut the hair of any customer for tuppence and being a lone unmarried man and having some connection in the bird line Paul got on tolerably well he was a little elderly man with a clammy cold right hand from which even rabbits and birds could not remove the smell of Paul had something of the bird in his nature not of the hawk or eagle but of the sparrow that builds in chimney stacks and inclines to human company he was not quarrelsome though like the sparrow but peaceful like the dove in his walk he strutted and in this respect he bore a fate resemblance to the pigeon as well as in a certain prosiness of speech which might in its monotony be likened to the cooing of that bird very inquisitive and when he stood at his shop door in the evening tide watching the neighbors with his head on one side and his eye cocked knowingly there was a dash of the raven in him yet there was no more wickedness in palvin and a robin happily too when any of his ornithological properties were on the verge of going too far they were quenched, dissolved melted down and neutralized in the barber just as his bald head otherwise as the head of a shaved magpie lost itself in a wig of curly black ringlets parted on one side and cut away almost to the crown to indicate immense capacity of intellect pal had a very small shrill treble voice which might have led the wags of kingsgate street to insist them more upon his feminine designation he had a tender heart too for when he had a good commission to provide three or four score sparrows for a shooting match he would observe in a compassionate tone how singular it was that sparrows should have been made expressly for such purposes the question whether men were made to shoot them never entered into pal's philosophy pal wore in his sporting character a velveteen coat a great deal of blue stocking ankle boots, a neckerchief of some bright color and a very tall hat pursuing his more quiet occupation of barber he generally subsided into an apron not over clean a flannel jacket and corduroy knee shorts it was in this latter costume but with his apron girded round his waist as a token of his having shut up shop for the night that he closed the door one evening some weeks after the occurrence as detailed in the last chapter and stood upon the steps in kingsgate street listening until the little cracked velveteen should leave off ringing for until it did this was Mr. Swedelepipe's reflection the place never seemed quiet enough to be left to itself it's the greediest little bell to ring said pal whatever was but it's quiet at last he rolled his apron up a little tighter as he said these words and hastened down the street just as he was turning into Holborn he ran against a young gentleman in a livery this youth was bold though small and with several lively expressions of displeasure turned upon him instantly now stupid cried the young gentleman can't you look where you're going to eh can't you mind where you're coming to eh what do you think your eyes was made for eh ah yes oh now then the young gentleman pronounced the last two words in a very loud tone and with frightful emphasis as though they contained within themselves the essence of the direst aggravation but he had scarcely done so when his anger yielded to surprise and he cried in a milder tone what Polly why it ain't you sure cried Polly it can't be you no it ain't me returned the youth it's my son my oldest one he's a credit to his father and he Polly with this delicate little piece of banter he halted on the pavement and went round and round in circles for the better exhibition of his figure rather to the inconvenience of the passengers generally who were not in an equal state of spirits with himself I wouldn't have believed it said Paul what you've left your old place then have you have I returned his young friend who had by this time stuck his hands into the pockets of his white cord breeches and was swaggering along at the barber's side do you know a pair of top boots when you see him Polly look here beautiful cried Mr. Sweetlepipe do you know a slap up sort of button when you see it said the youth don't look at mine if you ain't a judge because these lion's heads was made for men of taste not snobs beautiful cried the barber again a grass green frot coat too bound with gold and a cockade in your hat I should hope so replied the youth blow the cockade though for except that don't turn round it's like the one later that used to be in the kitchen window at Todges's you ain't seen the old lady's name in the Gazette have you no returned the barber is she a bankrupt if she ain't she will be retorted Bailey that business never can be carried on without me well how are you oh I'm pretty well said Paul are you living at this end of the town were you coming to see me was that the business that brought you to Holborn I haven't got no business in Holborn returned Bailey with some displeasure all my business lays at the west end I've got the right sort of governor now you can't see his face for his whiskers and can't see his whiskers for the die upon him that's a gentleman ain't it you wouldn't like a ride in a cab would you why it wouldn't be safe to offer it you'd fade away only to see me coming at a mild trot round the corner to convey a slight idea of the effect of this approach Mr. Bailey counterfeited in his own person the action of a high trotting horse and threw up his head so high and backing against a pump that he shook his hat off while his own uncle to Capricorn said Bailey and brother to cauliflower he's been through the windows of two chainie shops since we've had him and was sold for killing his Mrs that's a horse I hope you'll never want to buy any more red pals now observed Paul looking on his young friend with an air of melancholy you'll never want to buy any more red pals now to hang up over the sink will you I should think not replied Bailey either so I wouldn't have nothing to say to any bird below a peacock and he'd be Walger well how are you oh I'm pretty well said Paul he answered the question again because Mr. Bailey asked it again Mr. Bailey asked it again because accompanied with the straddling action of the white cords a bend of the knees and a striking fourth of the top boots it was an easy horse fleshy turfy sort of thing to do what are you up to old feller added Mr. Bailey with the same graceful rakishness he was quite the man about town of the conversation while the easy shaver was the child why I am going to fetch my lodger home said Paul a woman cried Mr. Bailey for a twenty pun note the little barber hastened to explain that she was neither a young woman nor a handsome woman but a nurse who had been acting as a kind of housekeeper to a gentleman for some weeks past and left her place that night in consequence of being superseded by another and a more legitimate housekeeper to wit the gentleman's bride he's newly married and he brings his young wife home tonight said the barber I'm going to fetch my lodger away Mr. Chuzzlewitz close behind the post office and carry her box for her Jonas Chuzzlewitz said Bailey ah return Paul that's the name sure enough do you know him oh no cried Mr. Bailey not at all and I don't know her not neither why they first kept company through me a most ah said Paul ah said Mr. Bailey with a wink he had looking mind you but her sister was the best she was the merry one I often used to have a bit of fun with her in the hold times Mr. Bailey spoke as if he already had a leg and three quarters in the grave and this had happened twenty or thirty years ago Paul's sweetle pipe the meek was so perfectly confounded by his precocious self-possession and his patronizing manner as well as by his boots cockade and livery he swam before his eyes and he saw not the Bailey of acknowledged juvenility from Todgers commercial boarding house who had made his acquaintance within a twelve month by purchasing at sundry times small birds at tuppence each but a highly condensed embodiment of all the sporting grooms in London an abstract of all the stable knowledge of the time a something at a high pressure that must have had existence many years and was fraught with terrible experiences and truly though in the cloudy atmosphere of Todgers Mr. Bailey's genius had ever shown out brightly in this particular respect it now eclipsed both time and space cheated beholders of their senses and worked on their belief in defiance of all natural laws he walked along the tangible and real stones of Holburn Hill an undersized boy and yet he winked to the winks and thought the thoughts and did the deeds and said the sayings of an ancient man there was an old principle within him and a young surface without he became an inexplicable creature a breached and booted sphinx there was no course open to the barber but to go distracted himself or to take Bailey for granted and he wisely chose the latter Mr. Bailey was good enough to continue to bear him company and to entertain him as they went with easy conversation on various sporting topics especially on the comparative merits as a general principle of horses with white stockings and horses without in regard to the style of tail to be preferred Mr. Bailey had opinions of his own which he explained but begged they might by no means influence his friends as here he knew he had them as fortunate to differ from some excellent authorities he treated Mr. Swedlepipe to a dram and compounded agreeably to his own directions which he informed him had been invented by a member of the Jockey Club and as they were by this time near the barber's destination he observed that as he had an hour to spare and knew the parties he would, if quite agreeable be introduced to Mrs. Gamp Paul knocked at Jonas Chuzzlewitz and on the door being opened by that lady made the two distinguished persons known to one another it was a happy feature of Mrs. Gamp's two fold profession that it gave her an interest in everything that was young as well as in everything that was old she received Mr. Bailey with much kindness it's very good I'm sure of you to come she said to her landlord as well as being so nice a friend but I'm afraid that I must trouble you so far as to step in for the young couple has not yet made appearance they're late ain't they inquired her landlord well sir considering the wings of love they are said Mrs. Gamp Mr. Bailey inquired whether the wings of love had ever won a plate or could be back to do anything remarkable and being informed that it was not a horse but merely a poetical or figurative expression events considerable discussed Mrs. Gamp was so very much astonished by his affable manners and great ease that she was about to propound to her landlord in a whisper the staggering inquiry whether he was a man or a boy when Mr. Sweetlepipe anticipating her design made a timely diversion he knows Mrs. Chuzzlewitz had Paul allowed there's nothing he don't know that's my opinion observed Mrs. Gamp all the wickedness of the world is print to him Mr. Bailey received this as a compliment and said adjusting his cravat so as you knows Mrs. Chuzzlewitz you knows perhaps what her Christian name is Mrs. Gamp observed charity said Bailey that it ain't cried Mrs. Gamp cherry then said Bailey cherry short for it it's all the same it don't begin with a C at all retorted Mrs. Gamp shaking her head it begins with a M phew cried Mr. Bailey slapping a little cloud of pipe clay out of his left leg then he's been and married the merry one as these words were mysterious Mrs. Gamp called upon him to explain which Mr. Bailey proceeded to do that lady listening greedily to everything he said he was yet in the fullness of his narrative when the sound of wheels and a double knock at the street door announced the arrival of the newly married couple begging him to reserve what more he had to say for her hearing on the way home Mrs. Gamp took up the candle and hurried away to receive and welcome the young mistress of the house wishing you happiness and joy with all my art said Mrs. Gamp dropping on curtsy as they entered the hall and you too sir your lady looks a little tired with the journey Mr. Chuzzlewitz a pretty dear she has bothered enough about it grumbled Mr. Jonas now show a light will you this way ma'am if you please said Mrs. Gamp going upstairs before them things has been made as comfortable as they could be but there's many things you'll have to alter your own self when you get time to look about you ah sweet thing but you don't added Mrs. Gamp internally you don't look much like a merry one I must say it was true she did not the death that had gone before the bridal seemed to have left its shade upon the house the air was heavy and impressive the rooms were dark a deep gloom filled up every chink in corner upon the hearth stone like a creature of ill omen sat the aged clerk with his eyes fixed on some withered branches in the stove he rose and looked at her so there you are Mr. Chuff said Jonas carelessly as he dusted his boots still in the land of the living still in the land of the living sir retorted Mrs. Gamp thank you for it as many and many a time I've told him Mr. Jonas was not in the best of humours for he merely said as he looked round we don't want you any more you know Mrs. Gamp I'm a going immediate sir returned the nurse unless there's nothing I can do for you ma'am ain't there said Mrs. Gamp with a look of great sweetness and rummaging all the time in her pocket ain't there nothing I can do for you my little bird no you're just crying you had better go away please with a leer of mingled sweetness and slinus with one eye on the future one on the bride and an arch expression in her face partly spiritual partly spirituous and wholly professional and peculiar to her art Mrs. Gamp rummaged in her pocket again and took from it a printed card whereon was an inscription copied from her signboard would you be so good my darling young married lady Mrs. Gamp observed in a low voice has put that somewhere where you can keep it in your mind I'm well be known to many ladies and it's my card Gamp is my name and Gamp my nadir living quite handy I will make so bold as call in now and then and make inquiry how your health and spirits is my precious chick and with innumerable leers winks, coughs, nods, smiles and curtsies all leading to the establishment of a mysterious confidential understanding between herself and the bride Mrs. Gamp invoking a blessing upon the house leered winked, coughed nodded, smiled and curtsied herself out of the room but I will say and I would if I was led a Martha to the stakes for it Mrs. Gamp remarked below stairs in a whisper that she don't look much like a merry one at this present moment of time I wait till you hear her laugh said Bailey cried Mrs. Gamp in a kind of groan I will child they said no more in the house for Mrs. Gamp put on her bonnet Mr. Sweetlepipe took up her box and Mr. Bailey accompanied them towards Kingsgate street recounting to Mrs. Gamp as they went along the origin and progress of his acquaintance with Mrs. Chuzzle wed in her sister it was a pleasant instance of this youth's precocity that he fancied Mrs. Gamp had conceived a tenderness for him and was much tickled by her misplaced attachment as the door closed heavily behind them Mrs. Jonas sat down in a chair and felt a strange chill creep upon her whilst she looked about the room it was pretty much as she had known it but appeared more dreary she had thought to see it brightened to receive her it ain't good enough for you I suppose said Jonas watching her looks while it is dull said Mary trying to be more herself it'll be duller before you're done with it retorted Jonas if you give me any of your heirs you're a nice article to turn sulky on first coming home he codged you used to have life enough when you could plague me with it the gals downstairs ringing the bell for supper while I take my boots off she roused herself from looking after him as he left the room to do what he had desired when the old man chuffy laid his hand softly on her arm you are not married he said eagerly not married yes a month ago good heaven what is the matter he answered nothing was the matter and turned from her but in her fear and wonder turning also she saw him raise his trembling hands above his head and heard him say oh whoa whoa upon this wicked house it was her welcome home end of chapter 26