 CHAPTER 53 COMPRISING THE FINAL EXIT OF MR. JINGLE AND JOBE TROTTER, WITH A GREAT MORNING OF BUSINESS IN GRAY'S INSQUARE CONCLUDING WITH A DOUBLE KNOCK AT MR. PERKER'S DOOR. When Arabella, after some gentle preparation and many assurances that there was not the least occasion for being low-spirited, was at length made acquainted by Mr. Pickwick with the unsatisfactory result of his visit to Birmingham, she burst into tears and sobbing aloud lamented in moving terms that she should have been the unhappy cause of any estrangement between a father and his son. My dear girl, said Mr. Pickwick kindly, it is no fault of yours. It was impossible to foresee that the old gentleman would be so strongly prepossessed against his son's marriage, you know. I am sure, added Mr. Pickwick, glancing at her pretty face, he can have very little idea of the pleasure he denies himself. Oh, my dear Mr. Pickwick, said Arabella, what shall we do if he continues to be angry with us? Why, wait patiently, my dear, until he thinks better of it, replied Mr. Pickwick cheerfully. But, dear Mr. Pickwick, what is to become of Nathaniel if his father withdraws his assistance, urged Arabella? In that case, my love, rejoined Mr. Pickwick, I will venture to prophesy that he will find some other friend who will not be backward in helping him to start in the world. The significance of this reply was not so well disguised by Mr. Pickwick, but that Arabella understood it. So, throwing her arms round his neck and kissing him affectionately, she sobbed, louder than before. Come, come, said Mr. Pickwick, taking her hand. We will wait here a few days longer and see whether he writes or takes any other notice of your husband's communication. If not, I have thought of half a dozen plans, any one of which would make you happy at once. There, my dear, there. With these words Mr. Pickwick gently pressed Arabella's hand and bade her dry her eyes and not distress her husband, upon which Arabella, who was one of the best little creatures alive, put her handkerchief in her reticule, and by the time Mr. Winkle joined them, exhibited in full luster the same beaming smiles and sparkling eyes that had originally captivated him. This is a distressing predicament for these young people, thought Mr. Pickwick as he dressed himself next morning. I'll walk up to Perker's and consult him about the matter. As Mr. Pickwick was further prompted to be taken himself to Grazian Square by an anxious desire to come to a pecuniary settlement with the kind-hearted little attorney without further delay, he made a hurried breakfast and executed his intentions so speedily that ten o'clock had not struck when he reached Grazian. It still wanted ten minutes to the hour when he had ascended the staircase on which Perker's chambers were. The clerks had not arrived yet, and he beguiled the time by looking out of the staircase window. The healthy light of a fine October morning made even the dingy old houses brighten up a little. Some of the dusty windows actually looking almost cheerful as the sun's rays gleamed upon them. Clerk after clerk hastened into the square by one or other of the entrances, and looking up at the hall-clock, accelerated or decreased his rate of walking according to the time at which his office hours nominally commenced. The half-past nine o'clock people suddenly becoming very brisk, and the ten o'clock gentlemen falling into a pace of most aristocratic slowness. The clock struck ten and clerks poured in faster than ever, each one in a greater perspiration than his predecessor. The noise of unlocking and opening doors echoed and re-echoed on every side. Heads appeared as if by magic in every window. The porters took up their stations for the day, the slip-shod laundress is hurried off, the postman ran from house to house, and the whole legal hive was in a bustle. Your early Mr. Pickwick, said a voice behind him. Ah, Mr. Lotten, replied that gentleman, looking round and recognizing his old acquaintance. Precious warm walking, isn't it, said Lotten, drawing a Brahma key from his pocket, with a small plug therein to keep the dust out. You appear to feel it, so rejoined Mr. Pickwick, smiling at the clerk who was literally red-hot. I've come along, rather, I can tell you, replied Lotten. It went the half-hour as I came through the polygon. I'm here before him, though, so I don't mind. Comforting himself with this reflection, Mr. Lotten extracted the plug from the door key, having opened the door, replugged and repocketed his Brahma, and picked up the letters which the postman had dropped through the box. He ushered Mr. Pickwick into the office. Here, in the twinkling of an eye, he divested himself of his coat, put on a threadbare garment which he took out of a desk, hung up his hat, pulled forth a few sheets of cartridge and blotting paper and alternate layers, and, sticking a pen behind his ear, rubbed his hands with an air of great satisfaction. There, you see, Mr. Pickwick, he said, now I'm complete. I've got my office coat on and my pad out, and let him come as soon as he likes. You haven't got a pinch of snuff about you, have you? No, I have not, replied Mr. Pickwick. I'm sorry for it, said Lotten. Never mind. I'll run out presently and get a bottle of soda. Don't I look rather queer about the eyes, Mr. Pickwick? The individual appealed to surveyed Mr. Lotten's eyes from a distance and expressed his opinion that no unusual queerness was perceptible in those features. I'm glad of it, said Lotten. We were keeping it up pretty tolerably at the stump last night, and I'm rather out of sorts this morning. Perker's been about that business of yours by the by. What business, inquired Mr. Pickwick? This is Bardell's costs. No, I don't mean that, replied Mr. Lotten, about getting that customer that we paid the ten shillings in the pound to the bill discounter for, on your account, to get him out of the fleet, you know, about getting him to Demarara? Oh, Mr. Jingle, said Mr. Pickwick hastily. Yes, well. Well, it's all arranged, said Lotten, mending his pen. The agent at Liverpool said he had been obliged to you many times when you were in business, and he would be glad to take him on your recommendation. That's well, said Mr. Pickwick. I am delighted to hear it. But I say, resumed Lotten, scraping the back of the pen preparatory to making a fresh split, what a soft chap that other is. Which other? Why, that servant or friend or whatever he is, you know, trotter. Ah, said Mr. Pickwick with a smile. I always thought him the reverse. Well, and so did I, from what little I saw of him, replied Lotten. It only shows how one may be deceived. What do you think of his going to Demarara, too? What? And giving up what was offered him here, exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, treating Perker's offer of eighteen Bob a week in a rise if he behaved himself like dirt, replied Lotten. He said he must go along with the other one, and so they persuaded Perker to write again, and they've got him something on the same estate. Not near so good, Perker says, as a convict would get in New South Wales if he appeared at his trial in a new suit of clothes. Foolish fellow, said Mr. Pickwick with glistening eyes. Foolish fellow. Oh, it's worse than foolish its downright sneaking, you know, replied Lotten, nibbing the pen with a contemptuous face. He says that he's the only friend he ever had, and he's attached to him and all that. Friendship's a very good thing in its way. We are all very friendly and comfortable at the stomp, for instance, over our grog, where every man pays for himself, but damn hurting yourself for anybody else, you know. No man should have more than two attachments, the first to number one and the second to the ladies. That's what I say, ha-ha! Mr. Lotten concluded with a loud laugh, half in jocularity and half in derision, which was prematurely cut short by the sound of Perker's footsteps on the stairs, at the first approach of which he vaulted on his stool with an agility most remarkable, and wrote intensely. The greeting between Mr. Pickwick and his professional adviser was warm and cordial. The client was scarcely ensconced in the attorney's arm chair, however, when a knock was heard at the door, and a voice inquired whether Mr. Perker was within. "'Hark!' said Perker. "'That's one of our vagabond friends. Jingle himself, my dear sir. Will you see him?' "'What do you think?' inquired Mr. Pickwick, hesitating. "'Yes, I think you had better. Here, you sir, what's your name? Walk in, will you?' In compliance with this unceremonious invitation, Jingle and Job walked into the room, but seeing Mr. Pickwick stopped short in some confusion. "'Well,' said Perker, don't you know that, gentlemen? "'Good reason, too,' replied Mr. Jingle, stepping forward. "'Mr. Pickwick, deepest obligations, life-preserver, made a man of me, you shall never repent it, sir.' "'I am happy to hear you say so,' said Mr. Pickwick. "'You look much better. Thanks to you, sir, great change. Majesty's fleet, unwholesome place, very,' said Jingle, shaking his head. He was decently and cleanly dressed, and so was Job, who stood bold up right behind him, staring at Mr. Pickwick with a visage of iron. "'When do they go to Liverpool?' inquired Mr. Pickwick, half a side to Perker. "'This evening, sir, at seven o'clock,' said Job, taking one step forward, by the heavy coach from the city, sir. "'Are your places taken?' "'They are,' sir,' replied Job. "'You have fully made up your mind to go.' "'I have, sir,' answered Job. "'With regard to such an outfit as was indispensable for Jingle,' said Perker, addressing Mr. Pickwick aloud, "'I have taken upon myself to make an arrangement for the deduction of a small sum from his quarterly salary, which, being made only for one year and regularly remitted, will provide for that expense. I entirely disapprove of your doing anything for him, my dear sir, which is not dependent on his own exertions and good conduct. "'Certainly,' interposed Jingle, with great firmness, "'clear head, man of the world, quite right, perfectly. By compounding with his creditor, releasing his clothes from the pawnbrokers, relieving him in prison and paying for his passage,' continued Perker, without noticing Jingle's observation, "'You have already lost upwards of fifty pounds.' "'Not lost,' said Jingle hastily, "'pay it all. Stick to business cash up every farthing. Yellow fever, perhaps, can't help that. If not,' hear Mr. Jingle paused, and striking the crown of his hat with great violence, passed his hand over his eyes and sat down. "'He means to say,' said Job, advancing a few paces, that if he is not carried off by the fever, he will pay the money back again. If he lives, he will, Mr. Pickwick. I will see it done. I know he will, sir,' said Job, with energy. I could undertake to swear it. "'Well, well,' said Mr. Pickwick, who had been bestowing a score or two of frowns upon Perker to stop his summary of benefits conferred, which the little attorney obstinately disregarded, "'You must be careful not to play any more desperate cricket batches, Mr. Jingle, or to renew your acquaintance with Sir Thomas Blazo. And I have little doubt of your preserving your health.' Mr. Jingle smiled at this sally, but looked rather foolish, notwithstanding. So Mr. Pickwick changed the subject by saying, "'You don't happen to know, do you, what has become of another friend of yours, a more humble one whom I saw at Rochester?' "'Dismal Jemmy,' inquired Jingle. "'Yes.' Jingle shook his head. "'Clever Rascal, queer fellow, hoaxing genius, Job's brother.' "'Job's brother,' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. "'Well, now I look at him closely, there is a likeness.' "'We were always considered like each other,' said Job, with a cunning look, just lurking in the corners of his eyes. Only I was really of a serious nature, and he never was. He emigrated to America, sir, in consequence of being too much sought after here to be comfortable, and has never been heard of since. That accounts for my not having received the page from the romance of real life, which he promised me one morning, when he appeared to be contemplating suicide on Rochester Bridge, I suppose,' said Mr. Pickwick, smiling. "'I need not inquire whether his dismal behavior was natural or assumed.' "'He could assume anything, sir,' said Job. "'You may consider yourself very fortunate in having escaped him so easily.' On intimate terms he would have been even the more dangerous acquaintance than Job looked at Jingle, hesitated, and finally added than myself even. "'A hopeful family yours,' Mr. Trotter,' said Perker, sealing a letter which he had just finished writing. "'Yes, sir,' replied Job, very much so.' "'Well,' said the little man, laughing, I hope you are going to disgrace it. "'Deliver this letter to the agent when you reach Liverpool and let me advise you, gentlemen, not to be too knowing in the West Indies. If you throw away this chance, you will both richly deserve to be hanged, as I sincerely trust you will be. And now you had better leave Mr. Pickwick and me alone, for we have other matters to talk over, and time is precious.' As Perker said this, he looked towards the door with an evident desire to render the leave-taking as brief as possible. It was brief enough on Mr. Jingle's part. He thanked the little attorney in a few hurried words for the kindness and promptitude with which he had rendered his assistance, and, turning to his benefactor, stood for a few seconds as if irresolute what to say or how to act. Job Trotter relieved his perplexity, for, with a humble and grateful bow to Mr. Pickwick, he took his friend gently by the arm and led him away. "'A worthy couple,' said Perker, as the door closed behind them. "'I hope they may become so,' replied Mr. Pickwick. "'What do you think? Is there any chance of their permanent reformation?' Perker shrugged his shoulders doubtfully, but observing Mr. Pickwick's anxious and disappointed look rejoined. "'Of course there is a chance. I hope it may prove a good one. They are unquestionably penitent now, but then you know they have the recollection of very recent suffering fresh upon them. What they may become when that fades away is a problem that neither you nor I can solve. However, my dear sir,' added Perker, laying his hand on Mr. Pickwick's shoulder, "'Your object is equally honorable, whatever the result is. Whether that species of benevolence which is so very cautious and long-sighted that it is seldom exercised at all, lest its owner should be imposed upon and so wounded in his self-love, be real charity or a worldly counterfeit, I leave to wiser heads than mine to determine. But if those two fellows were to commit a burglary to-morrow, my opinion of this action would be equally high. With these remarks, which were delivered in a much more animated and earnest manner than is usual in legal gentlemen, Perker drew his chair to his desk and listened to Mr. Pickwick's recital of old Mr. Winkle's obstinacy. "'Give him a week,' said Perker, nodding his head prophetically. "'Do you think he will come round?' inquired Mr. Pickwick. "'I think he will,' rejoined Perker. "'If not, we must try the young lady's persuasion. And that is what anybody but you would have done at first.' Mr. Perker was taking a pinch of snuff with various grotesque contractions of countenance eulogistic of the persuasive powers appertaining unto young ladies. When the murmur of inquiry and answer was heard in the outer office, and Loudon tapped at the door. "'Come in,' cried the little man. The clerk came in and shut the door after him with great mystery. "'What's the matter?' inquired Perker. "'You're wanted, sir. "'Who wants me?' Loudon looked at Mr. Pickwick and coughed. "'Who wants me? Can't you speak, Mr. Loudon?' "'Why, sir,' replied Loudon. "'It's Dodson and Fogg is with him. "'Bless my life,' said the little man, looking at his watch. "'I appointed them to be here at half past eleven to settle that matter of yours, Pickwick. I gave them an undertaking on which they sent down your discharge. "'It's very awkward, my dear sir. What will you do? Would you like to step into the next room?' The next room, being the identical room in which Messers Dodson and Fogg were, Mr. Pickwick replied that he would remain where he was, the more especially as Messers Dodson and Fogg ought to be ashamed to look him in the face instead of his being ashamed to see them. Which latter circumstance he begged Mr. Perker to note, with a glowing countenance and many marks of indignation. "'Very well, my dear sir, very well,' replied Perker. "'I can only say that if you expect either Dodson or Fogg to exhibit any symptom of shame or confusion at having to look you or anybody else in the face, you are the most sanguine man in your expectations that I ever met with. Show them in, Mr. Loudon.' Mr. Loudon disappeared with a grin and immediately returned to ushering in the firm, in due form of precedence, Dodson first and Fogg afterwards. "'You have seen Mr. Pickwick, I believe,' said Perker to Dodson, inclining his pen in the direction where that gentleman was seated. "'How do you do, Mr. Pickwick?' said Dodson, in a loud voice. "'Dear me,' cried Fogg. "'How do you do, Mr. Pickwick? I hope you are well, sir. I thought I knew the face,' said Fogg, drawing up a chair and looking round him with a smile. Mr. Pickwick bent his head very slightly in answer to these salutations, and seeing Fogg pull a bundle of papers from his coat pocket, rose and walked to the window. "'There's no occasion for Mr. Pickwick to move, Mr. Parker,' said Fogg, untying the red tape which encircled the little bundle and smiling again more sweetly than before. "'Mr. Pickwick is pretty well acquainted with these proceedings. There are no secrets between us, I think.' "'Not many, I think,' said Dodson. Ha, ha, ha!' Then both the partners laughed together pleasantly and cheerfully as men who are going to receive money often do. "'We shall make Mr. Pickwick pay for peeping,' said Fogg, with considerable native humor, as he unfolded his papers. The amount of the tax cost is one hundred and thirty-three, six four, Mr. Parker. There was a great comparing of papers and turning over of leaves by Fogg and Parker after this statement of profit and loss. Meanwhile Dodson said, in an affable manner, to Mr. Pickwick, "'I don't think you are looking quite so stout as when I had the pleasure of seeing you last, Mr. Pickwick.' "'Possibly not, sir,' replied Mr. Pickwick, who had been flashing forth looks of fierce indignation without producing the smallest effect on either of the sharp practitioners. "'I believe I am not, sir. I have been persecuted and annoyed by scoundrels of late, sir.' Parker coughed violently and asked Mr. Pickwick whether he wouldn't like to look at the morning paper, to which inquiry Mr. Pickwick returned a most decided negative. "'True,' said Dodson, "'I dare say you have been annoyed in the fleet. There are some odd gentry there. Whereabouts were your apartments, Mr. Pickwick?' "'My one room,' replied that much injured gentleman, was on the coffee-room flight. "'Oh, indeed,' said Dodson, "'I believe that is a very pleasant part of the establishment.' "'Very,' replied Mr. Pickwick, dryly. "'There was a coolness about all this, which, to a gentleman of an excitable temperament, had under the circumstances rather an exasperating tendency. Mr. Pickwick restrained his wrath by gigantic efforts. But when Parker wrote a check for the whole amount, and Fogg deposited it in a small pocket-book with a triumphant smile playing over his pimply features, which communicated itself likewise to the stern countenance of Dodson, he felt the blood in his cheeks tingling with indignation. "'Now, Mr. Dodson,' said Fogg, putting up the pocket-book and drawing on his gloves, "'I am at your service.' "'Very good,' said Dodson, rising. "'I am quite ready.' "'I am very happy,' said Fogg, softened by the check, to have had the pleasure of making Mr. Pickwick's acquaintance. "'I hope you don't think quite so ill of us, Mr. Pickwick, as when we first had the pleasure of seeing you.' "'I hope not,' said Dodson, with the high tone of culminated virtue. "'Mr. Pickwick now knows us better, I trust. Whatever your opinion of gentlemen of our profession may be, I beg to assure you so that I bear no ill will or vindictive feeling towards you for the sentiments you thought proper to express in our office in Freeman's Court, Cornhill, on the occasion to which my partner has referred.' "'Oh, no, no, nor I,' said Fogg, in a most forgiving manner. "'Our conduct,' said Dodson, will speak for itself, and justify itself, I hope, upon every occasion. We have been in the profession some years, Mr. Pickwick, and have been honoured with the confidence of many excellent clients. "'I wish you good morning, sir.' "'Good morning, Mr. Pickwick,' said Fogg, so saying he put his umbrella under his arm, drew off his right glove, and extended the hand of reconciliation to that most indignant gentleman, who thereupon thrust his hands beneath his coattails, and eyed the attorney with looks of scornful amazement. "'Lauton,' cried Pickwick at this moment. "'Open the door. "'Wait one instant,' said Mr. Pickwick. "'Perker, I will speak.' "'My dear sir, pray let the matter rest where it is,' said the little attorney who had been in a state of nervous apprehension during the whole interview. "'Mr. Pickwick, I beg. "'I will not be put down, sir,' replied Mr. Pickwick hastily. "'Mr. Dodson, you have addressed some remarks to me.' Dodson turned round, bent his head meekly and smiled. "'Some remarks to me,' repeated Mr. Pickwick, almost breathless, and your partner has tended me his hand, and you have both assumed a tone of forgiveness and high-mindedness, which is an extent of impudence that I was not prepared for, even in you.' "'What, sir?' exclaimed Dodson. "'What, sir?' reiterated Fogg. "'Do you know that I have been the victim of your plots and conspiracies,' continued Mr. Pickwick. "'Do you know that I am the man whom you have been imprisoning and robbing? Do you know that you were the attorneys for the plaintiff in Bardell and Pickwick?' "'Yes, sir, we do know it,' replied Dodson. "'Course we know it, sir,' rejoined Fogg, slapping his pocket, perhaps by accident. "'I see that you recollect it with satisfaction,' said Mr. Pickwick, attempting to call up a sneer for the first time in his life, and failing most signally in so doing. "'Although I have long been anxious to tell you in plain terms what my opinion of you is, I should have let even this opportunity pass, in deference to my friend Parker's wishes, but for the unwarrantable tone you have assumed and your insolent familiarity. "'I say insolent familiarity, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, turning upon Fogg with a fierceness of gesture, which caused that person to retreat towards the door with great expedition. "'Take care, sir,' said Dodson, who, though he was the biggest man of the party, had prudently entrenched himself behind Fogg, and was speaking over his head with a very pale face. "'Let him assault you, Mr. Fogg. Don't return it on any account.' "'No, no, I won't return it,' said Fogg, falling back a little more as he spoke, to the evident relief of his partner, who by these means was gradually getting into the outer office. "'You are,' continued Mr. Pickwick, resuming the threat of his discourse, "'you are a well-matched pair of mean, rascally, petty-fogging robbers.' "'Well,' interposed Parker, is that all? "'It is all summed up in that,' rejoined Mr. Pickwick. "'They are mean, rascally, petty-fogging robbers.' "'There,' said Parker, in a most consolidatory tone. "'My dear sirs, he has said all he has to say. "'Now pray, go.' "'Lauton, is that door open?' "'Mr. Lauton, with a distant giggle,' replied in the affirmative. "'There, there. "'Good morning. Good morning. Now pray, my dear sirs. "'Mr. Lauton, the door,' cried the little man, pushing Dodson and Fogg, nothing loath out of the office. "'This way, my dear sirs, now pray, don't prolong this. "'Dear me, Mr. Lauton, the door, sir, why don't you attend?' "'If there's law in England, sir,' said Dodson, looking towards Mr. Pickwick as he put on his hat, "'You shall smart for this. You are a couple of mean. Remember, sir, you pay dearly for this,' said Fogg. Rascally, petty-fogging robbers, continued Mr. Pickwick, taking not the least notice of the threats that were addressed to him. "'Robbers,' cried Mr. Pickwick, running to the stairhead, as the two attorneys descended. "'Robbers!' shouted Mr. Pickwick, breaking from Lauton and Parker, and thrusting his head out of the staircase window. When Mr. Pickwick drew in his head again, his countenance was smiling and placid, and walking quietly back into the office, he declared that he had now removed a great weight from his mind, and that he felt perfectly comfortable and happy. Parker said nothing at all until he had emptied his snuff-box and sent Lauton out to fill it, when he was seized with a fit of laughing which lasted five minutes, at the expiration of which time he said that he supposed he ought to be very angry but he couldn't think of the business seriously yet. When he could he would be. "'Well now,' said Mr. Pickwick, let me have a settlement with you. Of the same kind as the last, inquired Parker with another laugh. Not exactly, rejoined Mr. Pickwick, drawing out his pocket-book, and shaking the little man hardly by the hand. I only mean a pecuniary settlement. You have done me many acts of kindness that I can never repay, and have no wish to repay, for I prefer continuing the obligation. With this preface the two friends dived into some very complicated accounts and vouchers, which having been duly displayed and gone through by Parker were at once discharged by Mr. Pickwick with many professions of esteem and friendship. They had no sooner arrived at this point than a most violent and startling knocking was heard at the door. It was not an ordinary double-knock, but a constant and uninterrupted succession of the loudest single raps as if the knocker were endowed with the perpetual motion or the person outside had forgotten to leave off. Dear me, what's that? exclaimed Parker, starting. I think it is a knock at the door, said Mr. Pickwick, as if there could be the smallest doubt of the fact. The knocker made a more energetic reply than words could have yielded, for it continued to hammer with surprising force and noise without a moment's cessation. Dear me! said Parker, ringing his bell. We shall alarm the inn. Mr. Loudon, don't you hear a knock? I'll answer the door in one moment, sir, replied the clerk. The knocker appeared to hear the response, and to assert that it was quite impossible he could wait so long. It made us to pen this uproar. It's quite dreadful, said Mr. Pickwick, stopping his ears. Make haste, Mr. Loudon, Parker called out. We shall have the panels beaten in. Mr. Loudon, who was washing his hands in a dark closet, hurried to the door and turning the handle, beheld the appearance which is described in the next chapter. CHAPTER 54 Containing some particulars, relative to the double knock and other matters, among which certain interesting disclosures relative to Mr. Snodgrass and a young lady, are by no means irrelevant to this history. The object that presented itself to the eyes of the astonished clerk was a boy, a wonderfully fat boy, habited as a serving lad, standing upright on the mat with his eyes closed as if in sleep. He had never seen such a fat boy, in or out of a travelling caravan, and this, coupled with the calmness and repose of his appearance, so very different from what was reasonably to have been expected of the inflictor of such knocks, smote him with wonder. What's the matter? inquired the clerk. The extraordinary boy replied not a word, but he nodded once and seemed to the clerk's imagination to snore feebly. Where do you come from? inquired the clerk. The boy made no sign. He breathed heavily, but in all other respects was motionless. The clerk repeated the question thrice, and receiving no answer prepared to shut the door, when the boy suddenly opened his eyes, winked several times, sneezed once, and raised his hand as if to repeat the knocking. Finding the door open, he stared about him with astonishment, and at length fixed his eyes on Mr. Loudon's face. What the devil do you knock in that way for? inquired the clerk angrily. Which way? said the boy, in a slow and sleepy voice. Well, like forty-hack any coachman, replied the clerk, because Master said I wasn't to leave off knocking till they opened the door, for fear I should go to sleep, said the boy. Well, said the clerk, what message have you brought? He's downstairs, rejoined the boy. Oh! Master! He wants to know whether you're at home. Mr. Loudon bethought himself at this juncture of looking out of the window. Seeing an open carriage with a hearty old gentleman in it, looking up very anxiously, he ventured to back in him, on which the old gentleman jumped out directly. That's your master in the carriage, I suppose, said Loudon. The boy nodded. All further inquiries were superseded by the appearance of old Wardle, who, running upstairs and just recognizing Loudon, passed it once into Mr. Perker's room. Pickwick, said the old gentleman, your hand, my boy, why have I never heard until the day before yesterday of your suffering yourself to be cooped up in jail? And why did you let him do it, Perker? I couldn't help it, my dear sir, replied Perker, with a smile and a pinch of snuff. You know how obstinate he is. Of course I do, of course I do, replied the old gentleman. I am hardly glad to see him notwithstanding. I will not lose sight of him again in a hurry. With these words Wardle shook Mr. Pickwick's hand once more, and having done the same by Perker threw himself into an arm chair, his jolly red face shining again with smiles and health. Well, said Wardle, here are pretty goings on. A pinch of your snuff, Perker, my boy. Never were such times, eh? What do you mean, inquired Mr. Pickwick? Mean, replied Wardle, why I think the girls are all running mad. That's no news, you'll say. Perhaps it's not, but it's true for all that. You have not come up to London of all places in the world to tell us that, my dear sir, have you, inquired Perker? No, not all together, replied Wardle, though it was the main cause of my coming. How's Arabella? Very well, replied Mr. Pickwick, and will be delighted to see you, I am sure. Black-eyed little jilt, replied Wardle. I had a great idea of marrying her myself one of these odd days, but I am glad of it too, very glad. How did the intelligence reach you, asked Mr. Pickwick? Oh, it came to my girls, of course, replied Wardle. Arabella wrote, the day before yesterday, to say she had made a stolen match without her husband's father's consent, and so you had gone down to get it when his refusing it couldn't prevent the match and all the rest of it. I thought it was a very good time to say something serious to my girls, so I said what a dreadful thing it was that children should marry without their parents' consent and so forth, but bless your hearts, I couldn't make the least impression upon them. They thought it such a much more dreadful thing that there should have been a wedding without bridesmaids that I might as well have preached to Joe himself. Here the old gentleman stopped to laugh, and having done so to his heart's content presently resumed. But this is not the best of it, it seems. This is only half the love-making and plotting that have been going forward. We have been walking on mines for the last six months, and their sprung at last. What do you mean, exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, turning pale? No other secret marriage, I hope. No, no, replied old Wardle, not so bad as that, no. What then, inquired Mr. Pickwick, am I interested in it? Shall I answer that question, Perker, said Wardle? If you don't commit yourself by doing so, my dear sir. Well, then you are, said Wardle. How, asked Mr. Pickwick anxiously, in what way? Really, replied Wardle, you're such a fiery sort of young fellow that I am almost afraid to tell you. But, however, if Perker will sit between us to prevent mischief, I'll venture. Having closed the room door and fortified himself with another application to Perker's snuff box, the old gentleman proceeded with his great disclosure in these words. The fact is that when I daughter Bella, Bella, who married young Trundle, you know— Yes, yes, we know, said Mr. Pickwick impatiently. Don't alarm me at the very beginning. My daughter Bella, Emily having gone to bed with a headache after she had read Arabella's letter to me, sat herself down by my side the other evening and began to talk over this marriage affair. Well, Pa, she says, what do you think of it? Why, my dear, I said, I suppose it's all very well. I hope it's for the best. I answered in this way, because I was sitting before the fire at the time, drinking my grog rather thoughtfully, and I knew my throwing in an undecided word now and then would induce her to continue talking. Both my girls are pictures of their dear mother, and as I grow old I like to sit with only them by me, for their voices and looks carry me back to the happiest period of my life and make me for the moment as young as I used to be then, though not quite so lighthearted. It's quite a marriage of affection, Pa, said Bella, after a short silence. Yes, my dear, said I, but such marriages do not always turn out the happiest. I questioned that mind, interposed Mr. Pickwick warmly. Very good, responded Wardle. Question anything you like when it's your turn to speak, but don't interrupt me. I beg your pardon, said Mr. Pickwick. Granted, replied Wardle. I am sorry to hear you express your opinion against marriages of affection, Pa, said Bella, coloring a little. I was wrong. I ought not to have said so, my dear, either, said I, patting her cheek as kindly as a ruffled fellow like me could pat it, for your mother's was one, and so was yours. It's not that I mean, Pa, said Bella. The fact is, Pa, I wanted to speak to you about Emily. Mr. Pickwick started. What's the matter now, inquired Wardle, stopping in his narrative? Nothing, replied Mr. Pickwick. Pray go on. I never could spin out a story, said Wardle abruptly. It must come out sooner or later, and it'll save us all a great deal of time if it comes at once. The long and the short of it is, then, that Bella at last mustered up courage to tell me that Emily was very unhappy, that she and your young friend Snodgrass had been in constant correspondence and communication ever since last Christmas, that she had very dutifully made up her mind to run away with him in laudable imitation of her old friend and school fellow. Not that having some compunctions of conscience on the subject in as much as I had always been rather kindly disposed to both of them, they had thought it better in the first instance to pay me the compliment of asking whether I would have any objection to their being married in the usual matter of fact manner. There now, Mr. Pickwick, if you can make it convenient to reduce your eyes to their usual size again, and to let me hear what you think we ought to do, I shall feel rather obliged to you. The testy manner in which the hearty old gentleman uttered this last sentence was not wholly unwarranted, for Mr. Pickwick's face had settled down into an expression of blank amazement and perplexity, quite curious to behold. Snodgrass, since last Christmas, were the first broken words that issued from the lips of the confounded gentleman. Since last Christmas, replied Wardle, that's plain enough, and very bad spectacles we must have worn not to have discovered it before. I don't understand it, said Mr. Pickwick, ruminating. I cannot really understand it. It's easy enough to understand it, replied the collaric old gentleman. If you had been a younger man, you would have been in the secret long ago, and besides, added Wardle after a moment's hesitation, the truth is that knowing nothing of this matter, I have rather pressed Emily for four or five months past to receive favorably. If she could, I would never attempt to force a girl's inclinations. The addresses of a young gentleman down in our neighborhood. I have no doubt that, girl-like, to enhance her own value and increase the ardor of Mr. Snodgrass, she has represented this matter in very glowing colors, and that they have both arrived at the conclusion that they are a terribly persecuted pair of unfortunates and have no resource but clandestine matrimony or charcoal. Now the question is, what's to be done? What have you done? inquired Mr. Pickwick. I? I mean, what did you do when your married daughter told you this? Oh, I made a fool of myself, of course, rejoined Wardle. Just so, interposed Perker, who had accompanied this dialogue with sundry twitchings of his watch chain, vindictive rubbings of his nose, and other symptoms of impatience. That's very natural, but how? I went into a great passion and frightened my mother into a fit, said Wardle. That was judicious, remarked Perker, and what else? I fratted and fumed all next day and raised a great disturbance. I went into the old gentleman, at last I got tired of rendering myself unpleasant and making everybody miserable, so I hired a carriage at Muggleton, and putting my own horses in it came up to town, under pretense of bringing Emily to see Arabella. Miss Wardle is with you then? said Mr. Pickwick. To be sure she is, replied Wardle. She is at Osburn's hotel in the Adolfi at this moment, unless your enterprising friend has run away with her since I came out this morning. You are reconciled then, said Perker. But a bit of it, answered Wardle. She has been crying and moping ever since, except last night between tea and supper, when she made a great parade of writing a letter that I pretended to take no notice of. You want my advice in this matter, I suppose, said Perker, looking from the musing face of Mr. Pickwick to the eager countenance of Wardle, and taking several consecutive pinches of his favorite stimulant. I suppose so, said Wardle, looking at Mr. Pickwick. Certainly, replied that gentleman. Well then, said Perker, rising and pushing his chair back, my advice is that you both walk away together, or ride away, or get away by some means or other, for I'm tired of you, and just talk this matter over between you. If you have not settled it by the next time I see you, I'll tell you what to do. This is satisfactory, said Wardle, hardly knowing whether to smile or be offended. Poo-poo, my dear sir, returned to Perker. I know you both a great deal better than you know yourselves. You have settled it all ready to all intents and purposes. Thus expressing himself, the little gentleman poked a snuff box first into the chest of Mr. Pickwick, and then into the waist coat of Mr. Wardle, upon which they all three laughed, especially the two last named gentlemen, who at once shook hands again, without any obvious or particular reason. You dine with me today, said Wardle, to Perker, as he showed them out. Can't promise, my dear sir, can't promise, replied Perker. I'll look in in the evening at all events. I shall expect you at five, said Wardle. Now Joe, having been at length awakened, the two friends departed in Mr. Wardle's carriage, which in common humanity had a dickey behind for the fat boy, who, if there had been a footboard instead, would have rolled off and killed himself in his very first nap. Driving to the Georgian vulture, they phoned that Arabella and her maid had sent for a hackney-coach immediately on the receipt of a short note from Emily, announcing her arrival in town, and had proceeded straight to the Adelphi. As Wardle had business to transact in the city, they sent the carriage and the fat boy to his hotel with the information that he and Mr. Pickwick would return together to dinner at five o'clock. Charged with this message, the fat boy returned, slumbering as peaceably in his dickey, over the stones as if it had been a downed bed on watchsprings. By some extraordinary miracle he awoke of his own accord when the coach stopped, and giving himself a good shake to stir up his faculties when it upstairs to execute his commission. Now whether the shake had jumbled the fat boy's faculties together instead of arranging them in proper order, or had roused such a quantity of new ideas within him as to render him oblivious of ordinary forms and ceremonies, or, which is also possible, he had proved unsuccessful in preventing his falling asleep as he ascended the stairs. It is an undoubted fact that he walked into the sitting-room without previously knocking at the door, and so beheld a gentleman with his arms clasping his young mistress's waist, sitting very lovingly by her side on his sofa, while Arabella and her pretty hand made feign to be absorbed in looking out of a window at the other end of the room. At the sight of this phenomenon, the fat boy uttered an interjection. The ladies a scream, and the gentleman an oath almost simultaneously. Wretched creature, what do you want here? said the gentleman. Who it is needless to say it was Mr. Snodgrass. To this, the fat boy, considerably terrified, briefly responded, Mrs., what do you want me for? inquired Emily, turning her head aside. You stupid creature! Master and Mr. Pickwick is going to dine here at five, replied the fat boy. Leave the room, said Mr. Snodgrass, glaring upon the bewildered youth. No, no, no, added Emily hastily. Bella, dear, advise me. Upon this, Emily and Mr. Snodgrass and Arabella and Mary crowded into a corner and conversed earnestly in whispers for some minutes, during which the fat boy dozed. Joe, said Arabella at length, looking round with a most bewitching smile. How do you do, Joe? Joe, said Emily, you're a very good boy. I won't forget you, Joe. Joe, said Mr. Snodgrass, advancing to the astonished youth and seizing his hand. I didn't know you before. There's five shillings for you, Joe. I'll owe you five, Joe, said Arabella, for old acquaintance's sake, you know. And another most captivating smile was bestowed upon the corpulent intruder. The fat boy's perception being slow, he looked rather puzzled at first to account for this sudden prepossession in his favor, and stared about him in a very alarming manner. At length, his broad face began to show symptoms of a grin of proportionately broad dimensions. And then, thrusting half a crown into each of his pockets and a hand and wrist after it, he burst into a hoarse laugh, being for the first and only time in his existence. He understands us, I see, said Arabella. He had better have something to eat immediately, remarked Emily. The fat boy almost laughed again when he heard this suggestion. Mary, after a little more whispering, tripped forth from the group and said, I am going to dine with you today, sir, if you have no objection. This way, said the fat boy eagerly, there is such a jolly meat pie. With these words the fat boy led the way downstairs, his pretty companion captivating all the waiters and angering all the chambermaids as she followed him to the eating room. There was the meat pie of which the youth had spoken so feelingly, and there were, moreover, a steak and a dish of potatoes and a pot of porter. Sit down, said the fat boy. Oh, my eye, how prime. I am so hungry. Having apostrophized his eye in a species of rapture five or six times, the youth took the head of the little table and Mary seated herself at the bottom. Will you have some of this, said the fat boy, plunging into the pie up to the very ferrules of the knife and fork. A little, if you please, replied Mary. The fat boy assisted Mary to a little and himself to a great deal, and was just going to begin eating when he suddenly laid down his knife and fork, leaned forward in his chair, and letting his hands, with the knife and fork in them, fall on his knees, said very slowly, say, how nice you look. This was said in an admiring manner and was so far gratifying, but still there was enough of the cannibal in the young gentleman's eyes to render the compliment a double one. Dear me, Joseph, said Mary, affecting to blush, what do you mean? The fat boy, gradually recovering his former position, replied with a heavy sigh and remaining thoughtful for a few moments, drank a long draught of the porter. Having achieved this feat, he sighed again and applied himself assiduously to the pie. What a nice young lady Miss Emily is, said Mary after a long silence. The fat boy had by this time finished the pie. He fixed his eyes on Mary and replied, I know, is a nicer her. Indeed, said Mary, yes indeed, replied the fat boy with unwanted vivacity. What's her name, inquired Mary? What's yours, Mary? So's hers, said the fat boy. You're her. The boy grinned to add point to the compliment and put his eyes into something between a squint and a cast, which there is reason to believe he intended for an ogle. You mustn't talk to me in that way, said Mary, you don't mean it. Don't I, though? replied the fat boy. I say. Well, are you going to come here regular? No, rejoined Mary, shaking her head. I'm going away again tonight. Why? Oh, said the fat boy, in a tone of strong feeling, how we should have enjoyed ourselves at meals if you had been. I might come here sometimes, perhaps, to see you, said Mary, biting the tablecloth and assumed coyness. If you would do me a favour. The fat boy looked from the pie dish to the steak, as if he thought a favour must be in a manner connected with something to eat, and then took out one of the half-crowns and glanced at it nervously. Don't you understand me? said Mary, looking slyly in his fat face. Again he looked at the half-crown and said faintly, No. The ladies want you not to say anything to the old gentleman about the young gentleman having been upstairs, and I want you too. Is that all? said the fat boy, evidently very much relieved as he pocketed the half-crown again. Of course I ain't it going to. You see, said Mary, Mr. Snodgrass is very fond of Miss Emily, and Miss Emily is very fond of him. And if you were to tell about it, the old gentleman would carry you all the way miles into the country where you'd see nobody. No, no, I won't tell, said the fat boy stoutly. That's a deer, said Mary. Now it's time I went upstairs and got my lady ready for dinner. Don't go yet, urged the fat boy. I must, replied Mary. Goodbye for the present. The fat boy, with elefantine playfulness, stretched out his arms to ravish a kiss. But as it required no great agility to elude him, his fair enslavement had vanished before he closed them again, upon which the apathetic youth ate a pound or so of steak with a sentimental countenance and fell fast asleep. There was so much to say upstairs, and there were so many plans to concert for elopement and matrimony in the event of old wardle continuing to be cruel, that it wanted only half an hour of dinner when Mr. Snodgrass took his final adieu. The ladies ran to Emily's bedroom to dress, and the lover, taking up his hat, walked out of the room. He had scarcely got outside the door when he heard Wardle's voice talking loudly, and looking over the banisters beheld him, followed by some other gentleman coming straight upstairs. Knowing nothing of the house, Mr. Snodgrass, in his confusion, stepped hastily back into the room he had just quitted, and passing thence into an inner apartment, Mr. Wardle's bed-chamber, closed the door softly, just as the persons he had caught a glimpse of entered the sitting-room. These were Mr. Wardle, Mr. Pickwick, Mr. Nathaniel Winkle, and Mr. Benjamin Allen, whom he had no difficulty in recognizing by their voices. Very lucky I had the presence of mine to avoid them, thought Mr. Snodgrass with a smile, and walking on tiptoe to another door near the bedside, this opens into the same passage, and I can walk quietly and comfortably away. There was only one obstacle to his walking quietly and comfortably away, which was that the door was locked and the key gone. Let us have some of your best wine today, waiter, said old Wardle, rubbing his hands. You shall have some of the very best, sir, replied the waiter. Let the ladies know we have come in. Yes, sir. Devoutly and ardently did Mr. Snodgrass wish that the ladies could know he had come in. He ventured once to whisper, Waiter, through the keyhole, but the probability of the wrong waiter coming to his relief flashed upon his mind, together with a sense of the strong resemblance between his own situation and that in which another gentleman had been recently found in a neighboring hotel, on account of whose misfortunes had appeared under the head of police in that morning's paper, he sat himself on a portmanteau and trembled violently. We won't wait a minute for Perker, said Wardle, looking at his watch. He is always exact. He will be here in time, if he means to come, and if he does not, it's of no use waiting. Ha! Arabella! My sister, exclaimed Mr. Benjamin Allen, folding her in a most romantic embrace. Oh, Ben, dear, how you do smell of tobacco! said Arabella, rather overcome by this mark of affection. Do I? said Mr. Benjamin Allen. Do I, Bella? Well, perhaps I do. Perhaps he did, having just left a pleasant little smoking party of twelve medical students and a small-back parlor with a large fire. But I am delighted to see you, said Mr. Ben Allen. Bless you, Bella. There! said Arabella, bending forward to kiss her brother. Don't take hold of me again, Ben, dear, because you tumble me so. At this point of the reconciliation Mr. Ben Allen allowed his feelings and the cigars and porter to overcome him, and looked round upon the beholders with damp spectacles. There's nothing to be said to me, cried Wardle, with open arms. A great deal, whispered Arabella, as she received the old gentleman's hearty caress in congratulation. You are a heart-hearted, unfeeling, cruel monster. You are a little rebel, replied Wardle, in the same tone. And I am afraid I shall be obliged to forbid you the house. People like you, who get married in spite of everybody, ought not to be let loose on society. But come, added the old gentleman aloud, here's the dinner. You shall sit by me. Joe, why damn the boy he's awake! To the great distress of his master the fat boy was indeed in a state of remarkable vigilance. His eyes being wide open and looking as if they intended to remain so. There was an alacrity in his manner, too, which was equally unaccountable. Every time his eyes met those of Emily or Arabella, he smirked and grinned. Once Wardle could have sworn he saw him wink. This alteration in the fat boy's demeanor originated in his increased sense of his own importance, and the dignity he acquired from having been taken into the confidence of the young ladies. And the smirks and grins and winks were so many condescending assurances that they might depend upon his fidelity. As these tokens were rather calculated to awaken suspicion than allay it, and were somewhat embarrassing besides, they were occasionally answered by a front-own or shake of the head from Arabella, which the fat boy, considering his hints to be on his guard, expressed his perfect understanding of by smirking, grinning, and winking with redoubled assiduity. Joe, said Mr. Wardle after an unsuccessful search in all his states, is my snuff-box on the sofa? No, sir, replied the fat boy. Oh, I recollect. I left it on my dressing-table this morning, said Wardle. Run into the next room and fetch it. The fat boy went into the next room, and having been absent about a minute, returned with the snuff-box and the palest face that ever a fat boy wore. What's the matter with the boy? exclaimed Wardle. Nothing's the matter with me, replied Joe nervously. Have you been seeing any spirits? I think you're right, whispered Wardle. Across the table he is intoxicated, I'm sure. Then Allen replied that he thought he was, and as that gentleman had seen a vast deal of the disease in question, Wardle was confirmed in an impression which had been hovering about his mind for half an hour, and it once arrived at the conclusion that the fat boy was drunk. Just keep your eye upon him for a few minutes, murmured Wardle. We shall soon find out whether he is or not. The unfortunate youth had only interchanged a dozen words with Mr. Snodgrass, that gentleman having implored him to make a private appeal to some friend to release him, and then pushed him out with a snuff-box lest his prolonged absence should lead to a discovery. He ruminated a little with a most disturbed expression of face and left the room in search of Mary. But Mary had gone home after dressing her mistress, and the fat boy came back again, more disturbed than before. Wardle and Mr. Ben Allen exchanged glances. Joe, said Wardle, yes, sir. What did you go away for? The fat boy looked hopelessly in the face of everybody at table and stammered out that he didn't know. Oh, said Wardle, you don't know, eh? Take this cheese to Mr. Pickwick. Now, Mr. Pickwick, being in the very best health and spirits, had been making him drunk for a long time. Had been making himself perfectly delightful all dinner time, and was, at this moment, engaged in an energetic conversation with Emily and Mr. Winkle, bowing his head courteously in the emphasis of his discourse, gently waving his left hand to lend force to his observations, and all glowing with placid smiles. He took a piece of cheese from the plate, and was on the point of turning round to renew the conversation when the fat boy, stooping so as to bring his head on a level with that of Mr. Pickwick, pointed with his thumb over his shoulder and made the most horrible and hideous face that was ever seen out of a Christmas pantomime. Dear me! said Mr. Pickwick, starting, what a very—eh? He stopped, for the fat boy had drawn himself up and was or pretended to be fast asleep. What's the matter? inquired Wardle. This is such an extremely singular lad, replied Mr. Pickwick, looking uneasily at the boy. It seems an odd thing to say, but upon my word I am afraid that at times he is a little deranged. Oh, Mr. Pickwick, pray don't say so! cried Emily and Arabella both at once. I am not certain, of course, said Mr. Pickwick, amidst profound silence and looks of general dismay, but his manner to me this moment really was very alarming. Oh! ejaculated Mr. Pickwick, suddenly jumping up with a short scream. I beg your pardon, ladies, but at that moment he ran some sharp instrument into my leg. Really, he is not safe. He's drunk, roared old Wardle passionately. Ring the bell. Call the waiters. He's drunk. I ain't, said the fat boy, falling on his knees as his master seized him by the collar. I ain't drunk. Then you're mad. That's worse. Call the waiters, said the old gentleman. I ain't mad. I'm sensible. Rejoined the fat boy, beginning to cry. Then what the devil did you run sharp instruments into Mr. Pickwick's legs for? inquired Wardle angrily. He wouldn't look at me, replied the boy. I wanted to speak to him. What did you want to say? asked half a dozen voices at once. The fat boy gasped. Looked at the bedroom door, gasped again, and wiped two tears away with the knuckle of each of his forefingers. What did you want to say? demanded Wardle, shaking him. Stop! said Mr. Pickwick. Allow me. What did you wish to communicate to me, my poor boy? I want to whisper to you, replied the fat boy. You want to bite his ear off, I suppose, said Wardle. Don't come near him. He's vicious. Ring the bell and let him be taken downstairs. Just as Mr. Winkle caught the bell rope in his hand, it was arrested by a general expression of astonishment. The captive lover, his face burning with confusion, suddenly walked in from the bedroom and made a comprehensive bow to the company. Hello! cried Wardle, releasing the fat boy's collar and staggering back. What's this? I have been concealed in the next room, sir, since you returned. explained Mr. Snodgrass. Emily, my girl, said Wardle reproachfully, I detest meanness and deceit. This is unjustifiable and indelicate in the highest degree. I don't deserve this at your hands, Emily, indeed. Dear Papa! said Emily. Mr. Arabella knows, everybody here knows, Joe knows, that I was no party to this concealment. Augustus, for heaven's sake, explain it. Mr. Snodgrass, who had only waited for a hearing, at once recounted how he had been placed in his then distressing predicament, how the fear of giving rise to domestic dissensions had alone prompted him to avoid Mr. Wardle on his entrance, how he merely meant to depart by another door, but finding it locked had been compelled to stay against his will. It was a painful situation to be placed in, but he now regretted it the less in as much as it afforded him an opportunity of acknowledging, before their mutual friends, that he loved Mr. Wardle's daughter deeply and sincerely, that he was proud to avow that the feeling was mutual, and that if thousands of miles were placed between them or oceans rolled their waters, he could never, for an instant, forget those happy days when first, etc., etc. Having delivered himself to this effect, Mr. Snodgrass bowed again, looked into the crown of his hat, and stepped towards the door. Stop! shouted Wardle, why, in the name of all that's inflamable, mildly suggested Mr. Pickwick, who thought something worse was coming, well, that's inflamable, said Wardle, adopting the substitute. Couldn't you say all this to me in the first instance? Or confide in me, added Mr. Pickwick. Dear, dear, said Arabella, taking up the defense, what is the use of asking all that now, especially when you know you had set your covetous old heart on a richer son-in-law, and are so wild and fierce besides that everybody is afraid of you except me? Shake hands with him and order him some dinner for goodness gracious sake, for he looks half-starved. And pray have your wine up at once, for you'll not be tolerable until you have taken two bottles at least. The worthy old gentleman pulled Arabella's ear, kissed her without the smallest scruple, kissed his daughter also with great affection, and shook Mr. Snodgrass warmly by the hand. She is right on one point at all events, said the old gentleman cheerfully. Ring for the wine. The wine came, and Perker came upstairs at the same moment. Mr. Snodgrass had dinner at his side-table, and when he had dispatched it drew his chair next to Emily without the smallest opposition on the old gentleman's part. The evening was excellent. Little Mr. Perker came out wonderfully, told various comic stories, and sang a serious song which is almost as funny as the anecdotes. Arabella was very charming. Mr. Wardle very jovial. Mr. Pickwick very harmonious. Mr. Ben Allen very uproarious. The lovers very silent. Mr. Winkle very talkative. And all of them very happy. The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens Chapter 55 Mr. Solomon Pell, assisted by a select committee of coachmen, arranges the affairs of the elder Mr. Weller. Sammelville, said Mr. Weller, accosting his son on the morning after the funeral. I found it, Sammy. I thought it was there. Thought what was there? inquired Sam. Your mother-in-law is Bill, Sammy, replied Mr. Weller. In virtue of itch, them arrangements is to be made, as I told you on last night, respecting the funds. What? Didn't she tell you where it was? inquired Sam. Not a bit in it, Sammy, replied Mr. Weller. We would suggest in our little differences, that I was a cheer in her spirits and bearing her up, so that I forgot to ask anything about it. I don't know as I should have done it, indeed, if I had remembered it, added Mr. Weller. For it's a rum sort of thing, Sammy, to go a hankering out of anybody's property, when you're assisting them in illness. It's like helping an outside passenger up, when he's been pitched off a coach, and putting your hand in his pocket while you ask him with a sigh, how he finds himself, Sammy. With this figurative illustration of his meaning, Mr. Weller unclasped his pocketbook, and drew forth a dirty sheet of letter paper, on which were inscribed various characters crowded together in remarkable confusion. This here is the document, Sammy, said Mr. Weller. I found it in the little black teapot on the top shelf of the bar closet. She used to keep banknotes there, for she was married, Sammy. I've seen her take the lid off to pay a bill, many and many a time. Poor creature, she might have filled all the teapots in the house with bills, and not have inconvenienced herself neither. For she took very little of anything in that day, lately, except on the temperance nights, when they just laid a foundation of tea to put the spirits atop on. What does it say? inquired Sam. Just what I told you, my boy, rejoined his parent. Two hundred pound worth of reduced counsels to my son-in-law Sammelville, and all the rest of my property of every kind in description but so ever to my husband Mr. Tony Weller, who I appoint as my sole executor. That's all, is it? said Sam. That's all, replied Mr. Weller. And I suppose, as it's all right and satisfactory to you and me, as is the only party's interested, we may as well put this bit of paper into the fire. What are you a-doing on, you lunatic? said Sam, snatching the paper away, as his parent, in all innocence, stirred the fire, preparatory to suiting the action to the word. You're a nice executor you are. By not, inquired Mr. Weller, looking sternly round with the poker in his hand. By not, exclaimed Sam, because it must be proved and probated and swore to in all manner of formalities. You don't mean that, said Mr. Weller, laying down the poker. Sam buttoned the will carefully in a side pocket, intimating by a look, meanwhile, that he did mean it, and very seriously, too. Then I'll tell you what it is, said Mr. Weller, after a short meditation. This is a case for that air-confidential pal of the Chancellor's ships. Pal must look into this, Sammy. He's the man for a difficult question at law. He'll have this here brought afore the solvent court directly, Sammable. I never did see such an adelheaded old creedor, exclaimed Sam irritably. Old Baileys and solvent courts and alley-bys and every species and gammon, all of his are running through his brain. You'd better get your out-of-door clothes on and come to town about this business, than stand a preach in there about what you don't understand nothing on. Very good, Sammy, replied Mr. Weller. I'm quite agreeable to anything as vulhexpidite business, Sammy, but mind this here, my boy, nobody but Pal. Nobody but Pal is a legal advisor. I don't want anybody else, replied Sam. Now are you a-coming? Wait a minute, Sammy, replied Mr. Weller, who, having tied his shawl with the aid of a small glass that hung in the window, was now, by dint of the most wonderful exertions, struggling into his upper garments. Wait a minute, Sammy, when you grow as old as your father, you won't get into your vest, get quite as easy as you do now, my boy. If I couldn't get into it easier than that, I'm blessed if I'd bear a bun at all, rejoined his son. You think so now, said Mr. Weller, with the gravity of age, but you'll find that as you get wider you'll get visor. Width and wisdom, Sammy, all of this grows together. As Mr. Weller delivered this infallible maxim, the result of many years' personal experience and observation, he contrived by a dexterous twist of his body to get the bottom button of his coat to perform its office. Having paused a few seconds to recover breath, he brushed his hat with his elbow and declared himself ready. As four heads is better than two, Sammy, said Mr. Weller, as they drove along the London Road in the chaise cart, and as all this here property is a very great temptation to a legal gentleman, he'll take a couple of friends of mine with us, as we wary soon down upon him if he comes anythin' irregular. Two of them has saw you to the fleet that day. They're the wary best judges, added Mr. Weller and a half whisper, the wary best judges of a horse you ever know'd. And of a lawyer, too, inquired Sam. The man is conform a accurate judgment of an animal, conform a accurate judgment of anything, replied his father, so dogmatically that Sam did not attempt to controvert the position. In pursuance of this notable resolution, the services of the modeled-faced gentleman and of two other very fat coachmen selected by Mr. Weller, probably with a view to their width and consequent wisdom, were put into requisition. And this assistance, having been secured, the party proceeded to the public house in Portugal Street once a messenger was dispatched to the insolvent court over the way, requiring Mr. Solomon Pell's immediate attendance. The messenger fortunately found Mr. Solomon Pell in court regaling himself, business being rather slack, with a cold collation of an Abernathy biscuit and a Savaloy. The message was no sooner whispered in his ear than he thrust them in his pocket among various professional documents and hurried over the way with such alacrity that he reached the parlor before the messenger had even emancipated himself from the court. Gentlemen, said Mr. Pell, touching his hat, my service to you all. I don't say it to flatter you gentlemen, but there are not five other men in the world that I'd have come out of that court for today. So busy, eh? said Sam. Busy, replied Pell. I'm completely sewn up, as my friend the late Lord Chancellor many a time used to say to me, gentlemen, when he came out from hearing appeals in the House of Lords, poor fellow, he was very susceptible to fatigue. He used to feel those appeals uncommonly. I actually thought more than once that he'd have sunk under him. I did indeed. Here Mr. Pell shook his head and paused, on which the elder Mr. Weller nudging his neighbor as begging him to mark the attorney's high connections, asked whether the duties in question produced any permanent ill effects on the constitution of his noble friend. I don't think he ever quite recovered them, replied Pell. In fact, I'm sure he never did. Pell, he used to say to me many a time, how the blazes you can stand the headwork you do is a mystery to me. Well, I used to answer, I hardly know how I do it upon my life. Pell, he'd add, sighing and looking at me with a little envy. Friendly envy, you know, gentlemen, mere friendly envy, I never minded it. Pell, you're a wonder, a wonder. Ah, you'd have liked him very much if you hadn't known him, gentlemen. Bring me three penneth of rum, my dear. Addressing this latter remark to the waitress in a tone of subdued grief, Mr. Pell's side looked at his shoes in the ceiling and the rum having by that time arrived drank it up. However, said Pell, drawing a chair to the table, a professional man has no right to think of his private friendships when his legal assistance is wanted. By the by, gentlemen, since I saw you here before, we have had to weep over a very melancholy occurrence. Mr. Pell drew out a pocket-hankerchief when he came to the word weep, but he made no further use of it than to wipe away a slight tinge of rum which hung upon his upper lip. I saw it in the advertiser, Mr. Weller, continued Pell, bless my soul, not more than fifty-two. For me only think. These indications of amusing spirit were addressed to the modelled-faced man whose eyes Mr. Pell had accidentally caught. On which the modelled-faced man whose apprehension of matters in general was of a foggy nature moved uneasily in his seat, and opined that, indeed, so far as that went, there was no saying how things was brought about. Which observation, involving one of those subtle propositions which it is difficult to encounter in argument, was controversial by nobody. I have heard it remarked that she was a very fine woman, Mr. Weller, said Pell, in a sympathizing manner. Yes, sir, she was, replied the elder Mr. Weller, not much relishing this mode of discussing the subject, and yet thinking that the attorney, from his long intimacy with the late Lord Chancellor, must know best on all matters of polite breeding. She was a very fine woman, sir, than I first knowed her. She was a witter, sir, at that time. Now it's curious, said Pell, looking round with a sorrowful smile. Mrs. Pell was a widow. That's very extraordinary, said the modelled-faced man. Well, it is a curious coincidence, said Pell. Not at all, gruffly remarked the elder Mr. Weller. More witters is married than single women. Very good, very good, said Pell. You're quite right, Mr. Weller. Mrs. Pell was a very elegant and accomplished woman. Her manners were the theme of universal admiration in our neighborhood. I was proud to see that woman dance. There was something so firm and dignified and yet natural in her motion. Her cutting, gentlemen, was simplicity itself. Ah, well, well. Excuse my asking the question, Mr. Samuel, continued the attorney in a lower voice. Was your mother-in-law tall? Not wary, replied Sam. Mrs. Pell was a tall figure, said Pell. A splendid woman with a noble shape and a nose, gentlemen, formed to command and be majestic. She was very much attached to me, very much, highly connected too. Her mother's brother, gentlemen, failed for eight hundred pounds as a law-stationer. Well, said Mr. Weller, who had grown rather restless during this discussion, with regard to business, the word was music to Pell's ears. He had been revolving in his mind whether any business was to be transacted or whether he had been merely invited to partake of a glass of brandy and water or a bowl of punch or any similar professional compliment. And now the doubt was set at rest without his appearing at all eager for its solution. His eyes glistened as he laid his hat on the table and said, what is the business upon which either of these gentlemen wish to go through the court? We require an arrest. A friendly arrest will do, you know. We are all friends here, I suppose. Give me the document, Sammy, said Mr. Weller, taking the will from his son, who appeared to enjoy the interview amazingly. What we work fire, sir, is a probe of this here. Probate, my dear sir, probate, said Pell. Well, sir, replied Mr. Weller sharply, probe and probate is very much the same. If you don't understand what I mean, sir, I just say I can find them as does. No offense, I hope, Mr. Weller, said Pell meekly. You are the executor, I see, he added, casting his eyes over the paper. I am, sir, replied Mr. Weller. These other gentlemen, I presume, are legates, are they, inquired Pell, with a congratulatory smile. Sammy is a legateese, replied Mr. Weller. These other gentlemen, his friends of mine, just come to see fair, a kind of umpires. Oh, said Pell, very good. I have no objections, I'm sure. I shall want a matter of five pound of you before I begin, ha-ha-ha. It being decided by the committee that the five pound might be advanced, Mr. Weller produced that sum, after which a long consultation about nothing particular took place. In the courseware of, Mr. Pell demonstrated to the perfect satisfaction of the gentleman who saw fair, that unless the management of the business had been entrusted to him, it must all have gone wrong, for reasons not clearly made out, but no doubt sufficient. This important point being dispatched, Mr. Pell refreshed himself with three chops and liquids both malt and spiritus at the expense of the estate, and then they all went away to Drs. Commons. The next day there was another visit to Drs. Commons and a great to-do with an attesting hustler who being inebriated, declined swearing anything but profane oaths to the great scandal of a proctor and surrogate. Next week there were more visits to Drs. Commons and there was a visit to the legacy duty office besides, and there were treaties entered into for the disposal of the lease and business and ratifications of the same and inventories to be made out and lunches to be taken and dinners to be eaten and so many profitable things to be done and such a mass of papers accumulated that Mr. Solomon Pell and the boy and the blue bag to boot all got so stout that scarcely anybody would have known them for the same man, boy and bag that had loitered about Portugal Street a few days before. At length all these weighty matters being arranged, a day was fixed for selling out and transferring the stock and of waiting with that view upon Wilkins Flasher S. Squire, stockbroker of somewhere near the bank who had been recommended by Mr. Solomon Pell for the purpose. It was a kind of festive occasion and the parties were attired accordingly. Mr. Weller's tops were newly cleaned and his dress was arranged with peculiar care. The modeled-faced gentleman wore at his buttonhole a full-sized dahlia with several leaves and the coats of his two friends were adorned with nosegays of laurel and other evergreens. All three were habited in strict holiday costume. That is to say they were wrapped up to the chins and wore as many clothes as possible which is and has been a stagecoachman's idea of full dress ever since stagecoaches were invented. Mr. Pell was waiting at the usual place of meeting at the appointed time. Even he wore a pair of gloves and a clean shirt much frayed at the collar and wristbands by frequent washings. A quarter to two said Pell looking at the parlor clock. If we are with Mr. Flasher at a quarter past we shall just hit the best time. What should you say to a drop of beer, gentlemen? Suggested the model-faced man and a little bit of cold beef, said the second coachman. Or a oyster, added the third, who was a horse gentleman supported by very round legs. Here, here, said Pell, to congratulate Mr. Weller on his coming into possession of his property. Eh, ha-ha. I'm quite agreeable, gentlemen, answered Mr. Weller. Sammy pulled the bell. Sammy complied and the porter, cold beef, and oysters being promptly produced, the lunch was done ample justice to. Where everybody took so active a part it is almost invidious to make a distinction. But if one individual evinced greater powers than another it was the coachman with the horse voice who took an imperial pint of vinegar with his oysters without betraying the least emotion. Mr. Pell, sir, said the elder Mr. Weller, stirring a glass of brandy and water, of which one was placed before every gentleman when the oyster shells were removed. Mr. Pell, sir, it was my intention to have proposed the funds on this occasion, but Sammelville has vispered to me. Here, Mr. Samuel Weller, who had silently eaten his oysters with tranquil smiles, cried, Here, in a very loud voice, has vispered to me, resumed his father, that it would be better to devote the liquor to vision you success and prosperity and thanking you for the manner in which you brought this here business through. Here's your help, sir. Hold hard there, interposed the modeled-faced gentleman with sudden energy. Your eyes on me, gentlemen. Saying this, the modeled-faced gentleman rose as did the other gentleman. The modeled-faced gentleman reviewed the company and slowly lifted his hand, upon which every man, including him of the modeled countenance, drew a long breath and lifted his tumbler to his lips. In one instant, the modeled-faced gentleman depressed his hand again and every glass was set down empty. It is impossible to describe the thrilling effect produced by this striking ceremony. At once dignified, solemn and impressive, it combined every element of grandeur. Well, gentlemen, said Mr. Pell, all I can say is that such marks of confidence must be very gratifying to a professional man. I don't wish to say anything that might appear egotistical, gentlemen, but I'm very glad for your own sakes that you came to me, that's all. If you had gone to any lone member of the profession, it's my firm conviction, and I assure you of it as a fact, that you would have found yourselves in Queer Street before this. I could have wished my noble friend had been alive to have seen my management of this case. I don't say it out of pride, but I think, however, gentlemen, I won't trouble you with that. I'm generally to be found here, gentlemen, but if I'm not here or over the way, that's my address. You'll find my terms very cheap and reasonable, and no man attends more to his clients than I do, and I hope I know a little of my profession besides. If you have any opportunity of recommending me to any of your friends, gentlemen, I shall be very much obliged to you, and so will they too when they come to know me. Your health, gentlemen. With this expression of his feelings, Mr. Solomon Pell laid three small written cards before Mr. Weller's friends, and looking at the clock again, feared it was time to be walking. Upon this hint, Mr. Weller settled the bill, and issuing forth the executor, legatee, attorney, and umpires, directed their steps towards the city. The office of Wilkins Flasher Esquire of the Stock Exchange was in a first floor, up a court, behind the Bank of England. The house of Wilkins Flasher Esquire was at Brixton Surrey. The horse and stand-hope of Wilkins Flasher Esquire were at an adjacent livery stable. The groom of Wilkins Flasher Esquire was on his way to the West End to deliver some game. The clerk of Wilkins Flasher Esquire had gone to his dinner, and so Wilkins Flasher Esquire himself cried, come in, when Mr. Pell and his companions knocked at the county house door. Good morning, sir, said Pell, bowing obsequiously. We want to make a little transfer, if you please. Oh, just come in, will you, said Mr. Flasher. Sit down a minute, I'll attend to you directly. Thank you, sir, said Pell. There's no hurry. Take a chair, Mr. Weller. Mr. Weller took a chair, and Sam took a box, and the umpires took what they could get, and looked at the almanac in one or two papers which were wafered against the wall, with as much open-eyed reverence as if they had been the finest efforts of the old masters. Well, I'll bet you half a dozen of claret on it. Come, said Wilkins Flasher Esquire, resuming the conversation to which Mr. Pell's entrance had caused a momentary interruption. This was addressed to a very smart young gentleman who wore his hat on his right whisker and was lounging over the desk, killing flies with a ruler. Wilkins Flasher Esquire was balancing himself on two legs of an office stool, spearing a wafer box with a penknife, which he dropped every now and then with great dexterity into the very center of a small red wafer that was stuck outside. Both gentlemen had very open waistcoats and very rolling collars and very small boots and very big rings and very little watches and very large shard chains and symmetrical inexpressibles and scented pocket handkerchiefs. I never bet half a dozen, said the other gentleman. I'll take a dozen. Done, Simmery, done, said Wilkins Flasher Esquire. Pee-pee mined, observed the other. Of course, replied Wilkins Flasher Esquire. Wilkins Flasher Esquire entered it in a little book with a gold pencil case and the other gentleman entered it also in another little book with another gold pencil case. I see there's a notice up this morning about Bopper, observed Mr. Simmery. Poor devil, he's expelled the house. I'll bet you ten guineas to five he cuts his throat, said Wilkins Flasher Esquire. Done, replied Mr. Simmery. Stop, I bar, said Wilkins Flasher Esquire thoughtfully. Perhaps he may hang himself. Very good, rejoined Mr. Simmery, pulling out the gold pencil case again. I have no objection to take you that way. Say he makes a way with himself. Kills himself, in fact, said Wilkins Flasher Esquire. Just so, replied Mr. Simmery, putting it down. Flasher, ten guineas to five, Bopper kills himself. Within what time shall we say? A fortnight, suggested Wilkins Flasher Esquire. Con found it no, rejoined Mr. Simmery, stopping for an instant to smash a fly with the ruler. Say a week. Split the difference, said Wilkins Flasher Esquire. Make it ten days. Well, ten days, rejoined Mr. Simmery. So it was entered down on the little books that Bopper was to kill himself within ten days or Wilkins Flasher Esquire was to hand over to Frank Simmery Esquire the sum of ten guineas. And that if Bopper did kill himself within that time, Frank Simmery Esquire would pay to Wilkins Flasher Esquire five guineas instead. I'm very sorry he has failed, said Wilkins Flasher Esquire. Capital dinners he gave. Fine port he had too, remarked Mr. Simmery. We are going to send our butler to the sale tomorrow to pick up some of that sixty-four. The devil you are, said Wilkins Flasher Esquire. My man's going too. Five guineas my man outbids your man. Done. Another entry was made in the little books with the gold pencil cases, and Mr. Simmery, having by this time killed all the flies and taken all the bets, strolled away to the stock exchange to see what was going forward. Wilkins Flasher Esquire now condescended to receive Mr. Solomon Pell's instructions. And having filled up some printed forms, requested the party to follow him to the bank, which they did. Mr. Weller and his three friends, staring at all they beheld in unbounded astonishment, and Sam encountering everything with a coolness which nothing could disturb. Crossing a courtyard, which was all noise and bustle, and passing a couple of porters who seemed dressed to match the red fire engine, which was wheeled away into a corner, they passed into an office where their business was to be transacted, and where Pell and Mr. Flasher left them standing for a few moments while they went upstairs into the will office. What place is this here? Whispered the model face gentleman to the elder Mr. Weller. Council's office, replied the executor in a whisper. What are them gentlemen as sitting behind the counters? Asked the horse's coachman. Reduced council's, I suppose, replied Mr. Weller. Ain't they the reduced council's, Sammival? Why, you don't suppose the reduced council's is alive, do you? inquired Samm, with some disdain. How should I know? retorted Mr. Weller. I thought they looked very like it. What are they then? Clerks, replied Samm. What are they all eating ham sandwiches for? inquired his father. Cause it's their duty, I suppose, replied Samm. It's a part of the system. They're always doing it here all day long. Mr. Weller and his friends had scarcely had a moment to reflect upon this singular regulation as connected with the monetary system of the country when they were rejoined by Pell and Wilkins Flasher Esquire who led them to a part of the counter above which was a round blackboard with a large W on it. What's that for, sir? inquired Mr. Weller, directing Pell's attention to the target in question. The first letter of the name of the deceased replied Pell. I say, said Mr. Weller, turning round to the umpires. There's something wrong here. We's our letter, this won't do. The referees at once gave it as their decided opinion that the business could not be legally preceded with under the letter W. And in all probability it would have stood over for one day at least had it not been for the prompt, though at first sight undue toful behavior of Samm, who seizing his father by the skirt of the coat dragged him to the counter and pinned him there until he had affixed his signature to a couple of instruments. Which, from Mr. Weller's habit of printing, was a work of so much labor and time that the officiating clerk peeled an eight three ribstone pippins while it was performing. As the elder Mr. Weller insisted on selling out his portion forthwith, they proceeded from the bank to the gate of the stock exchange to which Wilkins Flasher Esquire, after a short absence, returned with a check on Smith, Payne and Smith for five hundred and thirty pounds, that being the money to which Mr. Weller at the market price of the day was entitled in consideration of the balance of the Second Mrs. Weller's funded savings. Sam's two hundred pounds stood transferred to his name and Wilkins Flasher Esquire, having been paid his commission, dropped the money carelessly into his coat pocket and lounged back to his office. Mr. Weller was at first obstinately determined on cashing the check in nothing but sovereigns. But it being represented by the umpires that by so doing he must incur the expense of a small sack to carry them home in, he consented to receive the amount in five pound notes. My son, said Mr. Weller as they came out of the banking house, my son and me has a very particular engagement this afternoon and I should like to have this here business settled out of hand. So let's just go straight away, some where we can hoard at the accounts. A quiet room was soon found and the accounts were produced and audited. Mr. Pell's bill was taxed by Sam and some charges were disallowed by the umpires. But notwithstanding Mr. Pell's declaration, accompanied with many Solomon's separations that they were really too hard upon him, it was by very many degrees the best professional job he had ever had and one on which he boarded, lodged and washed for six months afterwards. The umpires having partaken of a dram shook hands and departed as they had to drive out of town that night. Mr. Solomon Pell finding that nothing more was going forward either in the eating or drinking way took a friendly leave and Sam and his father were left alone. There, said Mr. Weller, thrusting his pocketbook in his side pocket, that the bills for the lease in that there's 1180 pounds here. Now Sam of all my boy, turn the horse's heads to the George and Walter. End of chapter 55. Chapter 56 of the Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Deborah Lynn. The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens. Chapter 56. An important conference takes place between Mr. Pickwick and Samuel Weller at which his parent assists. An old gentleman in a snuff-colored suit arrives unexpectedly. Mr. Pickwick was sitting alone, musing over many things and thinking among other considerations how he could best provide for the young couple whose present unsettled condition was matter of constant regret and anxiety to him. When Mary stepped lightly into the room and advancing to the table, said rather hastily, oh, if you please, sir, Samuel is downstairs and he says, may his father see you? Surely, replied Mr. Pickwick. Thank you, sir, said Mary, tripping towards the door again. Sam has not been here long, has he? inquired Mr. Pickwick. Oh, no, sir, replied Mary eagerly. He has only just come home. He is not going to ask you for any more leave, sir, he says. Mary might have been conscious that she had communicated this last intelligence with more warmth than seemed actually necessary, or she might have observed a good-humored smile with which Mr. Pickwick regarded her when she had finished speaking. She certainly held down her head and examined the corner of a very smart little apron with more closeness than there appeared any absolute occasion for. Tell them they can come up at once, by all means, said Mr. Pickwick. Mary, apparently much relieved, hurried away with her message. Mr. Pickwick took two or three turns up and down the room, and rubbing his chin with his left hand as he did so, appeared lost in thought. Well, well, said Mr. Pickwick, at length in a kind but somewhat melancholy tone, it is the best way in which I could reward him for his attachment and fidelity. Let it be so, in Heaven's name. It is the fate of a lonely old man that those about him should form new and different attachments and leave him. I have no right to expect that it should be otherwise with me. No, no," added Mr. Pickwick more cheerfully, it would be selfish and ungrateful. I ought to be happy to have an opportunity of providing for him so well. I am. Of course I am. Mr. Pickwick had been so absorbed in these reflections that a knock at the door was three or four times repeated before he heard it, hastily seating himself and calling up his accustomed, pleasant looks. He gave the required permission, and Sam Weller entered, followed by his father. Glad to see you back again, Sam, said Mr. Pickwick. How do you do, Mr. Weller? Worry-hardy, thank you, sir, replied the widower. Hope I see you well, sir. Quite, I thank you, replied Mr. Pickwick. I wanted to have a little bit of conversation with you, sir, said Mr. Weller. If you could spare me five minutes or so, sir. Certainly, replied Mr. Pickwick. Sam, give your father a chair. Thank you, Samable. I've got a chair here, said Mr. Weller, bringing one forward as he spoke. Uncommon fine day it's been, sir," added the old gentleman, laying his hat on the floor as he sat himself down. Remarkably so, indeed, replied Mr. Pickwick, very seasonable. Seasonablest weather I ever see, sir, rejoined Mr. Weller. After the old gentleman was seized with a violent fit of coughing, wits being terminated, he nodded his head and winked and made several supplicatory and threatening gestures to his son, all of which Sam Weller steadily abstained from seeing. Mr. Pickwick, perceiving that there was some embarrassment on the old gentleman's part, affected to be engaged in cutting the leaves of a book that lay beside him, and waited patiently until Mr. Weller should arrive at the object of his visit. I never see such an aggravating boy as you are, Samable," said Mr. Weller, looking indignantly at his son, never in all my born days. What is he doing, Mr. Weller, inquired Mr. Pickwick? He won't begin, sir, rejoined Mr. Weller. He knows I ain't equal to expressing myself when there's anything particular to be done, and yet he'll stand and see me as set in here, taking up your wallible time and making a regular spectacle of myself, rather than help me out with a syllable. It ain't filial conduct, Samable," said Mr. Weller, wiping his forehead, very far from it. You said you'd speak, replied Sam. How should I know you was done up at the very beginning? You might have seen I weren't able to start, rejoined his father. I'm on the wrong side of the road and back and into the palanquin, in all manner of unpleasantness, and yet you won't put out a hand to help me. I'm ashamed on you, Samable. The fact is, sir, said Sam, with a slight bow. The Governor's been a-drawing his money. Very good, Samable. Very good, said Mr. Weller, nodding his head with a satisfied air. I didn't mean to speak harsh to you, Sammy. Very good. That's the way to begin. Come to the pint at once. Very good indeed, Samable. Mr. Weller nodded his head an extraordinary number of times in the excess of his gratification, and waited in a listening attitude for Sam to resume his statement. You may sit down, Sam, said Mr. Pickwick, apprehending that the interview was likely to prove rather longer than he had expected. Sam bowed again and sat down. His father looking round, he continued. The Governor, sir, has drawn out five hundred and thirty pound. Reduced counsels, interposed Mr. Weller's senior in an undertone. It don't much matter whether it's reduced counsels or what not, said Sam. Five hundred and thirty pounds is the sum, ain't it? All right, Samable, replied Mr. Weller. To which sum he has added, for the house and business, lease Goodville's stock and fixtures, interposed Mr. Weller, as much as makes it, continued Sam, altogether eleven hundred and eighty pound. Indeed, said Mr. Pickwick, I am delighted to hear it. I congratulate you, Mr. Weller, on having done so well. Wait a minute, sir, said Mr. Weller, raising his hand in a deprecatory manner. Get on, Samable. This here money, said Sam, with a little hesitation. He's anxious to put some veers, where he knows it'll be safe. And I'm wary anxious, too, for if he keeps it, he'll go a-lending it to somebody, or in western property and horses, or dropping his pocketbook down an airy, or making an Egyptian mummy of his self in some way or another. Very good, Samable, observed Mr. Weller, in his complacent manner, as if Sam had been passing the highest eulogiums on his prudence and foresight. Very good. For which reasons, continued Sam, plucking nervously at the brim of his hat, for which reasons he's drawn it out today, and come here with me to say, least vase to offer, or in other words, to say this here, said the elder Mr. Weller impatiently, that it ain't of no use to me. I'm going to work a coach, regular, and ain't got no vase to keep it, unless I vows to pay the guard for taking care in it, or to put it in one of the coach-pockets, which would be a temptation to the insides. If you'll take care in it for me, sir, I shall be very much obliged to you. Perhaps, said Mr. Weller, walking up to Mr. Pickwick and whispering in his ear, perhaps it'll go a little way towards the expenses of that air conviction. All I'd say is just you keep it till I ask you for it again. With these words, Mr. Weller placed the pocketbook in Mr. Pickwick's hands, caught up his hat, and ran out of the room with a celerity scarcely to be expected from so corpulent a subject. Stop him, Sam! exclaimed Mr. Pickwick earnestly. Overtake him! Bring him back instantly. Mr. Weller, here, come back! Sam saw that his masters and junctions were not to be disobeyed, and catching his father by the arm as he was descending the stairs dragged him back by main force. My good friend, said Mr. Pickwick, taking the old man by the hand, your honest confidence overpowers me. I don't see no occasion for nothing of the kind, sir, replied Mr. Weller obstinately. I assure you, my good friend, I have more money than I can ever need. Far more than a man at my age can ever live to spend, said Mr. Pickwick. No man knows how much he can spend till he tries, observed Mr. Weller. Perhaps not, replied Mr. Pickwick. But as I have no intention of trying any such experiments, I am not likely to come to want. I must beg you to take this back, Mr. Weller. Very well, said Mr. Weller, with a discontented look. Mark my words, Sammy. I'll do something desperate with this here property. Something desperate. You'd better not, replied Sam. Mr. Weller reflected for a short time, and then, buttoning up his coat with great determination, said, I'll keep a pike. What? exclaimed Sam. A pike! rejoined Mr. Weller through his set teeth. I'll keep a pike. Say, good-bye to your father, Sam, of all I do vote the remainder of my days to a pike. This threat was such an awful one, and Mr. Weller, besides appearing fully resolved to carry it into execution, seemed so deeply mortified by Mr. Pickwick's refusal, that that gentleman, after a short reflection, said, Well, well, Mr. Weller, I will keep your money. I can do more good with it, perhaps, than you can. It's the wary thing, to be sure, said Mr. Weller, brightening up. Of course you can, sir. Say no more about it, said Mr. Pickwick, locking the pocketbook in his desk. I am hardly obliged to you, my good friend. Now sit down again. I want to ask your advice. The internal laughter occasioned by the triumphant success of his visit, which it convulsed not only Mr. Weller's face, but his arms, legs, and body also, during the locking up of the pocketbook, suddenly gave place to the most dignified gravity as he heard these words. Wait outside a few minutes, Sam, will you, said Mr. Pickwick? Sam immediately withdrew. Mr. Weller looked uncommonly wise and very much amazed when Mr. Pickwick opened the discourse by saying, You are not an advocate for matrimony, I think, Mr. Weller. Mr. Weller shook his head. He was wholly unable to speak. Vague thoughts of some wicked widow having been successful in her designs on Mr. Pickwick choked his utterance. Did you happen to see a young girl downstairs when you came in just now with your son, inquired Mr. Pickwick? Yes, I see a young girl, replied Mr. Weller shortly. What did you think of her now? Candidly, Mr. Weller, what did you think of her? I thought she was wary plump and well-made, said Mr. Weller, with a critical air. So she is, said Mr. Pickwick, so she is. What did you think of her manners from what you saw of her? Very pleasant, rejoined Mr. Weller. Very pleasant and conformable. The precise meaning which Mr. Weller attached to this last mention to adjective did not appear, but as it was evident from the tone in which he used it that it was a favorable expression, Mr. Pickwick was as well satisfied as if he had been thoroughly enlightened on the subject. I take a great interest in her, Mr. Weller, said Mr. Pickwick. Mr. Weller coughed. I mean an interest in her doing well, resumed Mr. Pickwick, a desire that she may be comfortable and prosperous, you understand? Wary clearly, replied Mr. Weller, who understood nothing yet. That young person, said Mr. Pickwick, is attached to your son. To Sam of Oveller, exclaimed the parent. Yes, said Mr. Pickwick. It's natural, said Mr. Weller, after some consideration. Natural, but rather alarming. Sammy must be careful. How do you mean? inquired Mr. Wary careful that he don't say nothing to her, responded Mr. Weller. Wary careful that he ain't let away in an innocent moment to say anything as may lead to a conviction for breach. You never say, Mr. Pickwick, when the advance has designs on you, there's no known where to have them. And while you're a considerant of it, they have you. I was married first, that way myself, sir, and Sammy was the consequence of the maneuver. You give me no great encouragement to conclude what I have to say, observed Mr. Pickwick, but I had better do so at once. This young person is not only attached to your son, Mr. Weller, but your son is attached to her. Well, said Mr. Weller, this here's a pretty sort of thing to come to a father's ears, this is. I have observed them on several occasions, said Mr. Pickwick, making no comment on Mr. Weller's last remark, and entertain no doubt at all about it. Supposing I were desirous of establishing them comfortably as man and wife in some little business or situation where they might hope to obtain a decent living, what should you think of it, Mr. Weller? At first Mr. Weller received with rye faces a proposition involving the marriage of anybody in whom he took an interest. But as Mr. Pickwick argued the point with him, and laid great stress on the fact that Mary was not a widow, he gradually became more tractable. Mr. Pickwick had great influence over him, and he had been much struck with Mary's appearance, having in fact bestowed several very unfatherly winks upon her already. At length he said that it was not for him to oppose Mr. Pickwick's inclination, and that he would be very happy to yield to his advice, upon which Mr. Pickwick joyfully took him at his word and called Sam back into the room. Sam, said Mr. Pickwick, clearing his throat, your father and I have been having some conversation about you. About you, Sammable, said Mr. Weller, in a patronizing and impressive voice, I am not so blind, Sam, as not to have seen a long time since, that you entertain something more than a friendly feeling toward Mrs. Winkle's maid, said Mr. Pickwick. You hear this, Sammable, said Mr. Weller, in the same judicial form of speech as before. I hope, sir, said Sam, addressing his master. I hope there is no harm in a young man taken notice of a young woman as his undeniably good-looking and well-conducted. Certainly not, said Mr. Pickwick, not by no means, acquiesced Mr. Weller, affably but magisterially. So far from thinking there is anything wrong in conduct so natural, resumed Mr. Pickwick, it is my wish to assist and promote your wishes in this respect. With this view I have had a little conversation with your father, and finding that he is, of my opinion, the lady not being a witter, interposed Mr. Weller in explanation, the lady not being a widow, said Mr. Pickwick, smiling. I wish to free you from the restraint which your present position imposes upon you, and to mark my sense of your fidelity in many excellent qualities by enabling you to marry this girl at once, and to earn an independent livelihood for yourself and family. I shall be proud, Sam, said Mr. Pickwick, whose voice had faltered a little hither too, but now resumed its customary tone, proud and happy to make your future prospects in life my grateful and peculiar care. There was a profound silence for a short time, and then Sam said in a low husky sort of voice, but firmly with awe, I very much obliged you for your goodness, sir, as is only like yourself, but it can't be done. Can't be done, ejaculated Mr. Pickwick in astonishment. Sam of all, said Mr. Weller with dignity. I say it can't be done, repeated Sam in a louder key. What's to become of you, sir? My good fellow, replied Mr. Pickwick, the recent changes among my friends will alter my mode of life in future entirely. Besides, I am growing older and want repose and quiet. My rambles, Sam, are over. How do I know that air, sir? argued Sam. You think so now. Suppose you was to change your mind, which is not unlikely, for you have the spirit of five and twenty in you still. What had become of you without me? It can't be done, sir, it can't be done. Very good, Sam of all, there's a good deal in that, said Mr. Weller, encouragingly. I speak after long deliberation, Sam, and with the certainty that I shall keep my word, said Mr. Pickwick, shaking his head. New scenes have closed upon me. My rambles are at an end. Very good, rejoined Sam, then that's the very best reason why you should always have somebody by you as understands you to keep you up and make you comfortable. If you want a more polished sort of feller, well and good have him. But vages are no vages, notice are no notice, board are no board, lodging are no lodging. Sam Veller, as you took from the old inn in the borough, sticks by you come what may, and let every thin and everybody do their weary fiercest, nothing shall ever perwinn it. At the close of this declaration, which Sam made with great emotion, the elder Mr. Weller rose from his chair, and for forgetting all considerations of time, place, or propriety, waved his head above his head, and gave three vehement cheers. My good fellow, said Mr. Pickwick, when Mr. Weller had sat down again, rather abashed at his own enthusiasm, you are bound to consider the young woman also. I do consider the young woman, sir, said Sam. I have considered the young woman. I've spoke to her. I've told her how unsidivated. She's ready to vate till I'm ready, and I believe she will. If she don't, she's not the young woman I take her for, and I give her up the threadiness. You've known me a forester. My mind's made up, and nothing can ever alter it. Who could combat this resolution? Not Mr. Pickwick. He derived at that moment more pride and luxury of feeling from the disinterested attachment of his humble friends than ten thousand protestations from the greatest men living could have awakened in his heart. While this conversation was passing in Mr. Pickwick's room, a little old gentleman in a suit of snuff-colored clothes followed by a porter carrying a small portmanteau presented himself below, and after securing a bed for the night inquired of the waiter, whether one Mrs. Winkle was staying there. To which question the waiter, of course, responded in the affirmative. Is she alone, inquired the old gentleman? I believe she is, sir, replied the waiter. I can call her own maid, sir, if you— No, I don't want her, said the old gentleman quickly. Show me to her room without announcing me. Ayes, sir, said the waiter. Are you deaf, inquired the little old gentleman? No, sir. Then listen, if you please, can you hear me now? Yes, sir. That's well. Show me to Mrs. Winkle's room without announcing me. As the little old gentleman uttered this command, he slipped five shillings into the waiter's hand and looked steadily at him. Really, sir, said the waiter. I don't know, sir, whether— Ah, you'll do it, I see, said the little old gentleman. You had better do it at once, it will save time. There was something so very cool and collected in the gentleman's manner that the waiter put the five shillings in his pocket and led him upstairs without another word. This is the room, is it, said the gentleman. You may go. The waiter complied, wondering much who the gentleman could be and what he wanted. The little old gentleman, waiting till he was out of sight, tapped at the door. Come in, said Arabella. Ah, I'm a pretty voice at any rate, murmured the little old gentleman, but that's nothing. As he said this, he opened the door and walked in. Arabella, who was sitting at work, rose, unbeholding a stranger, a little confused, but by no means ungracefully so. Pray, don't rise, ma'am, said the unknown, walking in and closing the door after him. Mrs. Winkle, I believe, Arabella inclined her head. Is Nathaniel Winkle, who married the son of the old man at Birmingham? said the stranger, eyeing Arabella with visible curiosity. Again Arabella inclined her head and looked uneasily round as if uncertain whether to call for assistance. I surprise you, I see, ma'am, said the old gentleman. Rather, I confess, replied Arabella, wondering more and more. I'll take a chair, if you'll allow me, ma'am, said the stranger. He took one, and drawing a spectacle case from his pocket, leisurely pulled out a pair of spectacles which he adjusted on his nose. You don't know me, ma'am? he said, looking so intently at Arabella that she began to feel alarmed. No, sir, she replied timidly. No, said the gentleman nursing his left leg. I don't know how you should. You know my name, though, ma'am. Do I? said Arabella, trembling, though she scarcely knew why. May I ask what it is? Presently, ma'am, presently, said the stranger, not having yet removed his eyes from her countenance. You have been recently married, ma'am? I have, replied Arabella, in a scarcely audible tone, laying aside her work and becoming greatly agitated as a thought that had occurred to her before, struck more forcibly upon her mind. Without having represented to your husband the propriety of first consulting his father, on whom he is dependent, I think, said the stranger. Arabella applied her handkerchief to her eyes. Without an endeavor even to ascertain by some indirect appeal, what were the old man's sentiments on a point in which he would naturally feel much interested, said the stranger? I cannot deny it, sir, said Arabella, and without having sufficient property of your own to afford your husband any permanent assistance in exchange for the worldly advantages which you knew he would have gained if he had married agreeably to his father's wishes, said the old gentleman. This is what boys and girls call disinterested affection, till they have boys and girls of their own, and then they see it in a rougher and very different light. Arabella's tears flowed fast as she pleaded in extenuation that she was young and inexperienced, that her attachment had alone induced her to take the step to which she had resorted, and that she had been deprived of the counsel and guidance of her parents almost from infancy. It was wrong, said the old gentleman in a milder tone. Very wrong. It was romantic, unbusinesslike, foolish. It was my fault. All my fault, sir, replied poor Arabella, weeping. Nonsense, said the old gentleman. It was not your fault that he fell in love with you, I suppose. Yes, it was, though, said the old gentleman, looking rather slyly at Arabella. It was your fault. He couldn't help it. This little compliment, or the little gentleman's odd way of paying it, or his altered manner, so much kinder than it was at first, or all three together forced a smile from Arabella in the midst of her tears. Where's your husband, inquired the old gentleman abruptly, stopping a smile which was just coming over his own face. I expect him every instant, sir, said Arabella. I persuaded him to take a walk this morning. He is very low and wretched at not having heard from his father. How is he, said the old gentleman, serve him right. He feels it on my account, I am afraid, said Arabella, and indeed, sir, I feel it deeply on his. I have been the sole means of bringing him to his present condition. Don't mind it on his account, my dear, said the old gentleman. It serves him right. I am glad of it, actually glad of it, as far as he is concerned. The words were scarcely out of the old gentleman's lips when footsteps were heard ascending the stairs, which he and Arabella seemed both to recognize at the same moment. The little gentleman turned pale, and making a strong effort to appear composed, stood up as Mr. Winkle entered the room. Father! cried Mr. Winkle, recoiling in amazement. Yes, sir, replied the little old gentleman. Well, sir, what have you got to say to me? Mr. Winkle remained silent. You are ashamed of yourself, I hope, sir, said the old gentleman. Still, Mr. Winkle said nothing. Are you ashamed of yourself, sir, or are you not, inquired the old gentleman? No, sir, replied Mr. Winkle, drawing Arabella's arm through his. I am not ashamed of myself or of my wife, either. Upon my word, cried the old gentleman ironically, I am very sorry to have done anything which has lessened your affection for me, sir, said Mr. Winkle, but I will say at the same time that I have no reason to be ashamed of having this lady for my wife, nor you of having her for a daughter. Give me your hand, Nat, said the old gentleman, in an altered voice. Kiss me, my love. You are a very charming little daughter-in-law, after all. In a few minutes' time Mr. Winkle went in search of Mr. Pickwick, and returning with that gentleman, presented him to his father, whereupon they shook hands for five minutes incessantly. Mr. Pickwick, I thank you most heartily for all your kindness to my son, said old Mr. Winkle, in a bluff straightforward way. I am a hasty fellow, and when I saw you last I was vexed and taken by surprise. I have judged for myself now, and am more than satisfied. Shall I make any more apologies, Mr. Pickwick? Not one, replied that gentleman, who have done the only thing wanting to complete my happiness. Hereupon there was another shaking of hands for five minutes longer, accompanied by a great number of complementary speeches, which, besides being complementary, had the additional and very novel recommendation of being sincere. Sam had dutifully seen his father to the bell-sovage, when on returning he encountered the fat boy in the court, who had been charged with the delivery of a note from Emily Wardle. I say, said Joe, who was unusually loquacious, what a pretty girl Mary is, isn't she? I am so fond of her I am. Mr. Weller made no verbal remark in reply, but eyeing the fat boy for a moment, quite transfixed at his presumption, led him by the collar to the corner and dismissed him with a harmless but ceremonious kick, after which he walked home, whistling.