Chapter Ten

Martin Chuzzlewit

by Charles Dickens

CONTAINING STRANGE MATTER, ON WHICH MANY EVENTS IN THIS HISTORY
MAY, FOR THEIR GOOD OR EVIL INFLUENCE, CHIEFLY DEPEND

But Mr Pecksniff came to town on business. Had he forgotten
that? Was he always taking his pleasure with Todgers's jovial brood,
unmindful of the serious demands, whatever they might be, upon his
calm consideration? No.

Time and tide will wait for no man, saith the adage. But all
men have to wait for time and tide. That tide which, taken at the
flood, would lead Seth Pecksniff on to fortune, was marked down in
the table, and about to flow. No idle Pecksniff lingered far inland,
unmindful of the changes of the stream; but there, upon the water's
edge, over his shoes already, stood the worthy creature, prepared to
wallow in the very mud, so that it slid towards the quarter of his
hope.

The trustfulness of his two fair daughters was beautiful indeed.
They had that firm reliance on their parent's nature, which taught
them to feel certain that in all he did he had his purpose straight
and full before him. And that its noble end and object was himself,
which almost of necessity included them, they knew. The devotion of
these maids was perfect.

Their filial confidence was rendered the more touching, by their
having no knowledge of their parent's real designs, in the present
instance. All that they knew of his proceedings was, that every
morning, after the early breakfast, he repaired to the post office
and inquired for letters. That task performed, his business for the
day was over; and he again relaxed, until the rising of another sun
proclaimed the advent of another post.

This went on for four or five days. At length, one morning, Mr
Pecksniff returned with a breathless rapidity, strange to observe in
him, at other times so calm; and, seeking immediate speech with his
daughters, shut himself up with them in private conference for two
whole hours. Of all that passed in this period, only the following
words of Mr Pecksniff's utterance are known:

'How he has come to change so very much (if it should turn out
as I expect, that he has), we needn't stop to inquire. My dears, I
have my thoughts upon the subject, but I will not impart them. It is
enough that we will not be proud, resentful, or unforgiving. If he
wants our friendship he shall have it. We know our duty, I hope!'

That same day at noon, an old gentleman alighted from a
hackney-coach at the post-office, and, giving his name, inquired for
a letter addressed to himself, and directed to be left till called
for. It had been lying there some days. The superscription was in
Mr Pecksniff's hand, and it was sealed with Mr Pecksniff's seal.

It was very short, containing indeed nothing more than an
address 'with Mr Pecksniff's respectful, and (not withstanding what
has passed) sincerely affectionate regards.' The old gentleman tore
off the direction--scattering the rest in fragments to the winds--and
giving it to the coachman, bade him drive as near that place as he
could. In pursuance of these instructions he was driven to the
Monument; where he again alighted, and dismissed the vehicle, and
walked towards Todgers's.

Though the face, and form, and gait of this old man, and even
his grip of the stout stick on which he leaned, were all expressive
of a resolution not easily shaken, and a purpose (it matters little
whether right or wrong, just now) such as in other days might have
survived the rack, and had its strongest life in weakest death; still
there were grains of hesitation in his mind, which made him now avoid
the house he sought, and loiter to and fro in a gleam of sunlight,
that brightened the little churchyard hard by. There may have been,
in the presence of those idle heaps of dust among the busiest stir of
life, something to increase his wavering; but there he walked,
awakening the echoes as he paced up and down, until the church clock,
striking the quarters for the second time since he had been there,
roused him from his meditation. Shaking off his incertitude as the
air parted with the sound of the bells, he walked rapidly to the
house, and knocked at the door.

Mr Pecksniff was seated in the landlady's little room, and his
visitor found him reading--by an accident; he apologised for it--an
excellent theological work. There were cake and wine upon a little
table--by another accident, for which he also apologised. Indeed he
said, he had given his visitor up, and was about to partake of that
simple refreshment with his children, when he knocked at the door.

'Your daughters are well?' said old Martin, laying down his hat
and stick.

Mr Pecksniff endeavoured to conceal his agitation as a father
when he answered Yes, they were. They were good girls, he said, very
good. He would not venture to recommend Mr Chuzzlewit to take the
easy-chair, or to keep out of the draught from the door. If he made
any such suggestion, he would expose himself, he feared, to most
unjust suspicion. He would, therefore, content himself with
remarking that there was an easy-chair in the room, and that the door
was far from being air-tight. This latter imperfection, he might
perhaps venture to add, was not uncommonly to be met with in old
houses.

The old man sat down in the easy-chair, and after a few moments'
silence, said:

'In the first place, let me thank you for coming to London so
promptly, at my almost unexplained request; I need scarcely add, at
my cost.'

'At your cost, my good sir!' cried Mr Pecksniff, in a tone of
great surprise.

'It is not,' said Martin, waving his hand impatiently, 'my habit
to put my--well! my relatives--to any personal expense to gratify my
caprices.'

'Caprices, my good sir!' cried Mr Pecksniff

'That is scarcely the proper word either, in this instance,'
said the old man. 'No. You are right.'

Mr Pecksniff was inwardly very much relieved to hear it, though
he didn't at all know why.

'You are right,' repeated Martin. 'It is not a caprice. It is
built up on reason, proof, and cool comparison. Caprices never are.
Moreover, I am not a capricious man. I never was.'

'Most assuredly not,' said Mr Pecksniff.

'How do you know?' returned the other quickly. 'You are to
begin to know it now. You are to test and prove it, in time to come.
You and yours are to find that I can be constant, and am not to be
diverted from my end. Do you hear?'

'Perfectly,' said Mr Pecksniff.

'I very much regret,' Martin resumed, looking steadily at him,
and speaking in a slow and measured tone; 'I very much regret that
you and I held such a conversation together, as that which passed
between us at our last meeting. I very much regret that I laid open
to you what were then my thoughts of you, so freely as I did. The
intentions that I bear towards you now are of another kind; deserted
by all in whom I have ever trusted; hoodwinked and beset by all who
should help and sustain me; I fly to you for refuge. I confide in
you to be my ally; to attach yourself to me by ties of Interest and
Expectation'--he laid great stress upon these words, though Mr
Pecksniff particularly begged him not to mention it; 'and to help me
to visit the consequences of the very worst species of meanness,
dissimulation, and subtlety, on the right heads.'

'My noble sir!' cried Mr Pecksniff, catching at his outstretched
hand. 'And you regret the having harboured unjust thoughts of me!
You with those grey hairs!'

'Regrets,' said Martin, 'are the natural property of grey hairs;
and I enjoy, in common with all other men, at least my share of such
inheritance. And so enough of that. I regret having been severed
from you so long. If I had known you sooner, and sooner used you as
you well deserve, I might have been a happier man.'

Mr Pecksniff looked up to the ceiling, and clasped his hands in
rapture.

'Your daughters,' said Martin, after a short silence. 'I don't
know them. Are they like you?'

'In the nose of my eldest and the chin of my youngest, Mr
Chuzzlewit,' returned the widower, 'their sainted parent (not myself,
their mother) lives again.'

'I don't mean in person,' said the old man. 'Morally,
morally.'

''Tis not for me to say,' retorted Mr Pecksniff with a gentle
smile. 'I have done my best, sir.'

'I could wish to see them,' said Martin; 'are they near at
hand?'

They were, very near; for they had in fact been listening at the
door from the beginning of this conversation until now, when they
precipitately retired. Having wiped the signs of weakness from his
eyes, and so given them time to get upstairs, Mr Pecksniff opened the
door, and mildly cried in the passage,

'My own darlings, where are you?'

'Here, my dear pa!' replied the distant voice of Charity.

'Come down into the back parlour, if you please, my love,' said
Mr Pecksniff, 'and bring your sister with you.'

'Yes, my dear pa,' cried Merry; and down they came directly
(being all obedience), singing as they came.

Nothing could exceed the astonishment of the two Miss Pecksniffs
when they found a stranger with their dear papa. Nothing could
surpass their mute amazement when he said, 'My children, Mr
Chuzzlewit!' But when he told them that Mr Chuzzlewit and he were
friends, and that Mr Chuzzlewit had said such kind and tender words
as pierced his very heart, the two Miss Pecksniffs cried with one
accord, 'Thank Heaven for this!' and fell upon the old man's neck.
And when they had embraced him with such fervour of affection that no
words can describe it, they grouped themselves about his chair, and
hung over him, as figuring to themselves no earthly joy like that of
ministering to his wants, and crowding into the remainder of his
life, the love they would have diffused over their whole existence,
from infancy, if he--dear obdurate!--had but consented to receive the
precious offering.

The old man looked attentively from one to the other, and then
at Mr Pecksniff, several times.

'What,' he asked of Mr Pecksniff, happening to catch his eye in
its descent; for until now it had been piously upraised, with
something of that expression which the poetry of ages has attributed
to a domestic bird, when breathing its last amid the ravages of an
electric storm: 'What are their names?'

Mr Pecksniff told him, and added, rather hastily; his
caluminators would have said, with a view to any testamentary
thoughts that might be flitting through old Martin's mind; 'Perhaps,
my dears, you had better write them down. Your humble autographs are
of no value in themselves, but affection may prize them.'

'Affection,' said the old man, 'will expend itself on the living
originals. Do not trouble yourselves, my girls, I shall not so
easily forget you, Charity and Mercy, as to need such tokens of
remembrance. Cousin!'

'Sir!' said Mr Pecksniff, with alacrity.

'Do you never sit down?'

'Why--yes--occasionally, sir,' said Mr Pecksniff, who had been
standing all this time.

'Will you do so now?'

'Can you ask me,' returned Mr Pecksniff, slipping into a chair
immediately, 'whether I will do anything that you desire?'

'You talk confidently,' said Martin, 'and you mean well; but I
fear you don't know what an old man's humours are. You don't know
what it is to be required to court his likings and dislikings; to
adapt yourself to his prejudices; to do his bidding, be it what it
may; to bear with his distrusts and jealousies; and always still be
zealous in his service. When I remember how numerous these failings
are in me, and judge of their occasional enormity by the injurious
thoughts I lately entertained of you, I hardly dare to claim you for
my friend.'

'My worthy sir,' returned his relative, 'how can you talk in
such a painful strain! What was more natural than that you should
make one slight mistake, when in all other respects you were so very
correct, and have had such reason--such very sad and undeniable
reason--to judge of every one about you in the worst light!'

'True,' replied the other. 'You are very lenient with me.'

'We always said, my girls and I,' cried Mr Pecksniff with
increasing obsequiousness, 'that while we mourned the heaviness of
our misfortune in being confounded with the base and mercenary, still
we could not wonder at it. My dears, you remember?'

Oh vividly! A thousand times!

'We uttered no complaint,' said Mr Pecksniff. 'Occasionally we
had the presumption to console ourselves with the remark that Truth
would in the end prevail, and Virtue be triumphant; but not often. My
loves, you recollect?'

Recollect! Could he doubt it! Dearest pa, what strange
unnecessary questions!

'And when I saw you,' resumed Mr Pecksniff, with still greater
deference, 'in the little, unassuming village where we take the
liberty of dwelling, I said you were mistaken in me, my dear sir;
that was all, I think?'

'No--not all,' said Martin, who had been sitting with his hand
upon his brow for some time past, and now looked up again; 'you said
much more, which, added to other circumstances that have come to my
knowledge, opened my eyes. You spoke to me, disinterestedly, on
behalf of--I needn't name him. You know whom I mean.'

Trouble was expressed in Mr Pecksniff's visage, as he pressed
his hot hands together, and replied, with humility, 'Quite
disinterestedly, sir, I assure you.'

'I know it,' said old Martin, in his quiet way. 'I am sure of
it. I said so. It was disinterested too, in you, to draw that herd
of harpies off from me, and be their victim yourself; most other men
would have suffered them to display themselves in all their rapacity,
and would have striven to rise, by contrast, in my estimation. You
felt for me, and drew them off, for which I owe you many thanks.
Although I left the place, I know what passed behind my back, you
see!'

'You amaze me, sir!' cried Mr Pecksniff; which was true
enough.

'My knowledge of your proceedings,' said the old man, does not
stop at this. You have a new inmate in your house.'

'Yes, sir,' rejoined the architect, 'I have.'

'He must quit it' said Martin.

'For--for yours?' asked Mr Pecksniff, with a quavering
mildness.

'For any shelter he can find,' the old man answered. 'He has
deceived you.'

'I hope not' said Mr Pecksniff, eagerly. 'I trust not. I have
been extremely well disposed towards that young man. I hope it
cannot be shown that he has forfeited all claim to my protection.
Deceit-- deceit, my dear Mr Chuzzlewit, would be final. I should
hold myself bound, on proof of deceit, to renounce him instantly.'

The old man glanced at both his fair supporters, but especially
at Miss Mercy, whom, indeed, he looked full in the face, with a
greater demonstration of interest than had yet appeared in his
features. His gaze again encountered Mr Pecksniff, as he said,
composedly:

'Of course you know that he has made his matrimonial choice?'

'Oh dear!' cried Mr Pecksniff, rubbing his hair up very stiff
upon his head, and staring wildly at his daughters. 'This is
becoming tremendous!'

'You know the fact?' repeated Martin

'Surely not without his grandfather's consent and approbation my
dear sir!' cried Mr Pecksniff. 'Don't tell me that. For the honour
of human nature, say you're not about to tell me that!'

'I thought he had suppressed it,' said the old man.

The indignation felt by Mr Pecksniff at this terrible
disclosure, was only to be equalled by the kindling anger of his
daughters. What! Had they taken to their hearth and home a secretly
contracted serpent; a crocodile, who had made a furtive offer of his
hand; an imposition on society; a bankrupt bachelor with no effects,
trading with the spinster world on false pretences! And oh, to think
that he should have disobeyed and practised on that sweet, that
venerable gentleman, whose name he bore; that kind and tender
guardian; his more than father--to say nothing at all of
mother--horrible, horrible! To turn him out with ignominy would be
treatment much too good. Was there nothing else that could be done
to him? Had he incurred no legal pains and penalties? Could it be
that the statutes of the land were so remiss as to have affixed no
punishment to such delinquency? Monster; how basely had they been
deceived!

'I am glad to find you second me so warmly,' said the old man
holding up his hand to stay the torrent of their wrath. 'I will not
deny that it is a pleasure to me to find you so full of zeal. We
will consider that topic as disposed of.'

'No, my dear sir,' cried Mr Pecksniff, 'not as disposed of,
until I have purged my house of this pollution.'

'That will follow,' said the old man, 'in its own time. I look
upon that as done.'

'You are very good, sir,' answered Mr Pecksniff, shaking his
hand. 'You do me honour. You may look upon it as done, I assure
you.'

'There is another topic,' said Martin, 'on which I hope you will
assist me. You remember Mary, cousin?'

'The young lady that I mentioned to you, my dears, as having
interested me so very much,' remarked Mr Pecksniff. 'Excuse my
interrupting you, sir.'

'I told you her history?' said the old man.

'Which I also mentioned, you will recollect, my dears,' cried Mr
Pecksniff. 'Silly girls, Mr Chuzzlewit--quite moved by it, they
were!"

'Why, look now!' said Martin, evidently pleased; 'I feared I
should have had to urge her case upon you, and ask you to regard her
favourably for my sake. But I find you have no jealousies! Well!
You have no cause for any, to be sure. She has nothing to gain from
me, my dears, and she knows it.'

The two Miss Pecksniffs murmured their approval of this wise
arrangement, and their cordial sympathy with its interesting
object.

'If I could have anticipated what has come to pass between us
four,' said the old man thoughfully; 'but it is too late to think of
that. You would receive her courteously, young ladies, and be kind to
her, if need were?'

Where was the orphan whom the two Miss Pecksniffs would not have
cherished in their sisterly bosom! But when that orphan was
commended to their care by one on whom the dammed-up love of years
was gushing forth, what exhaustless stores of pure affection yearned
to expend themselves upon her!

An interval ensued, during which Mr Chuzzlewit, in an absent
frame of mind, sat gazing at the ground, without uttering a word; and
as it was plain that he had no desire to be interrupted in his
meditations, Mr Pecksniff and his daughters were profoundly silent
also. During the whole of the foregoing dialogue, he had borne his
part with a cold, passionless promptitude, as though he had learned
and painfully rehearsed it all a hundred times. Even when his
expressions were warmest and his language most encouraging, he had
retained the same manner, without the least abatement. But now there
was a keener brightness in his eye, and more expression in his voice,
as he said, awakening from his thoughtful mood:

'You know what will be said of this? Have you reflected?'

'Said of what, my dear sir?' Mr Pecksniff asked.

'Of this new understanding between us.'

Mr Pecksniff looked benevolently sagacious, and at the same time
far above all earthly misconstruction, as he shook his head, and
observed that a great many things would be said of it, no doubt.

'A great many,' rejoined the old man. 'Some will say that I
dote in my old age; that illness has shaken me; that I have lost all
strength of mind, and have grown childish. You can bear that?'

Mr Pecksniff answered that it would be dreadfully hard to bear,
but he thought he could, if he made a great effort.

'Others will say--I speak of disappointed, angry people
only--that you have lied and fawned, and wormed yourself through
dirty ways into my favour; by such concessions and such crooked
deeds, such meannesses and vile endurances, as nothing could repay;
no, not the legacy of half the world we live in. You can bear
that?'

Mr Pecksniff made reply that this would be also very hard to
bear, as reflecting, in some degree, on the discernment of Mr
Chuzzlewit. Still he had a modest confidence that he could sustain
the calumny, with the help of a good conscience, and that gentleman's
friendship.

'With the great mass of slanderers,' said old Martin, leaning
back in his chair, 'the tale, as I clearly foresee, will run thus:
That to mark my contempt for the rabble whom I despised, I chose from
among them the very worst, and made him do my will, and pampered and
enriched him at the cost of all the rest. That, after casting about
for the means of a punishment which should rankle in the bosoms of
these kites the most, and strike into their gall, I devised this
scheme at a time when the last link in the chain of grateful love and
duty, that held me to my race, was roughly snapped asunder; roughly,
for I loved him well; roughly, for I had ever put my trust in his
affection; roughly, for that he broke it when I loved him most--God
help me!--and he without a pang could throw me off, while I clung
about his heart! Now,' said the old man, dismissing this passionate
outburst as suddenly as he had yielded to it, 'is your mind made up
to bear this likewise? Lay your account with having it to bear, and
put no trust in being set right by me.'

'My dear Mr Chuzzlewit,' cried Pecksniff in an ecstasy, 'for
such a man as you have shown yourself to be this day; for a man so
injured, yet so very humane; for a man so--I am at a loss what
precise term to use--yet at the same time so remarkably--I don't know
how to express my meaning; for such a man as I have described, I hope
it is no presumption to say that I, and I am sure I may add my
children also (my dears, we perfectly agree in this, I think?), would
bear anything whatever!'

'Enough,' said Martin. 'You can charge no consequences on me.
When do you retire home?'

'Whenever you please, my dear sir. To-night if you desire
it.'

'I desire nothing,' returned the old man, 'that is unreasonable.
Such a request would be. Will you be ready to return at the end of
this week?'

The very time of all others that Mr Pecksniff would have
suggested if it had been left to him to make his own choice. As to
his daughters--the words, 'Let us be at home on Saturday, dear pa,'
were actually upon their lips.

'Your expenses, cousin,' said Martin, taking a folded slip of
paper from his pocketbook, 'may possibly exceed that amount. If so,
let me know the balance that I owe you, when we next meet. It would
be useless if I told you where I live just now; indeed, I have no
fixed abode. When I have, you shall know it. You and your daughters
may expect to see me before long; in the meantime I need not tell you
that we keep our own confidence. What you will do when you get home
is understood between us. Give me no account of it at any time; and
never refer to it in any way. I ask that as a favour. I am commonly
a man of few words, cousin; and all that need be said just now is
said, I think.'

'One glass of wine--one morsel of this homely cake?' cried Mr
Pecksniff, venturing to detain him. 'My dears--!'

The sisters flew to wait upon him.

'Poor girls!' said Mr Pecksniff. 'You will excuse their
agitation, my dear sir. They are made up of feeling. A bad
commodity to go through the world with, Mr Chuzzlewit! My youngest
daughter is almost as much of a woman as my eldest, is she not,
sir?'

'Which is the youngest?' asked the old man.

'Mercy, by five years,' said Mr Pecksniff. 'We sometimes
venture to consider her rather a fine figure, sir. Speaking as an
artist, I may perhaps be permitted to suggest that its outline is
graceful and correct. I am naturally,' said Mr Pecksniff, drying his
hands upon his handkerchief, and looking anxiously in his cousin's
face at almost every word, 'proud, if I may use the expression, to
have a daughter who is constructed on the best models.'

'She seems to have a lively disposition,' observed Martin.

'Dear me!' said Mr Pecksniff. 'That is quite remarkable. You
have defined her character, my dear sir, as correctly as if you had
known her from her birth. She has a lively disposition. I assure
you, my dear sir, that in our unpretending home her gaiety is
delightful.'

'No doubt,' returned the old man.

'Charity, upon the other hand,' said Mr Pecksniff, 'is
remarkable for strong sense, and for rather a deep tone of sentiment,
if the partiality of a father may be excused in saying so. A
wonderful affection between them, my dear sir! Allow me to drink
your health. Bless you!'

'I little thought,' retorted Martin, 'but a month ago, that I
should be breaking bread and pouring wine with you. I drink to
you.'

Not at all abashed by the extraordinary abruptness with which
these latter words were spoken, Mr Pecksniff thanked him devoutly.

'Now let me go,' said Martin, putting down the wine when he had
merely touched it with his lips. 'My dears, good morning!'

But this distant form of farewell was by no means tender enough
for the yearnings of the young ladies, who again embraced him with
all their hearts--with all their arms at any rate--to which parting
caresses their new-found friend submitted with a better grace than
might have been expected from one who, not a moment before, had
pledged their parent in such a very uncomfortable manner. These
endearments terminated, he took a hasty leave of Mr Pecksniff and
withdrew, followed to the door by both father and daughters, who
stood there kissing their hands and beaming with affection until he
disappeared; though, by the way, he never once looked back, after he
had crossed the threshold.

When they returned into the house, and were again alone in Mrs
Todgers's room, the two young ladies exhibited an unusual amount of
gaiety; insomuch that they clapped their hands, and laughed, and
looked with roguish aspects and a bantering air upon their dear papa.
This conduct was so very unaccountable, that Mr Pecksniff (being
singularly grave himself) could scarcely choose but ask them what it
meant; and took them to task, in his gentle manner, for yielding to
such light emotions.

'If it was possible to divine any cause for this merriment, even
the most remote,' he said, 'I should not reprove you. But when you
can have none whatever--oh, really, really!'

This admonition had so little effect on Mercy, that she was
obliged to hold her handkerchief before her rosy lips, and to throw
herself back in her chair, with every demonstration of extreme
amusement; which want of duty so offended Mr Pecksniff that he
reproved her in set terms, and gave her his parental advice to
correct herself in solitude and contemplation. But at that juncture
they were disturbed by the sound of voices in dispute; and as it
proceeded from the next room, the subject matter of the altercation
quickly reached their ears.

'I don't care that! Mrs Todgers,' said the young gentleman who
had been the youngest gentleman in company on the day of the
festival; 'I don't care that, ma'am,' said he, snapping his fingers,
'for Jinkins. Don't suppose I do.'

'I am quite certain you don't, sir,' replied Mrs Todgers. 'You
have too independent a spirit, I know, to yield to anybody. And
quite right. There is no reason why you should give way to any
gentleman. Everybody must be well aware of that.'

'I should think no more of admitting daylight into the fellow,'
said the youngest gentleman, in a desperate voice, 'than if he was a
bulldog.'

Mrs Todgers did not stop to inquire whether, as a matter of
principle, there was any particular reason for admitting daylight
even into a bulldog, otherwise than by the natural channel of his
eyes, but she seemed to wring her hands, and she moaned.

'Let him be careful,' said the youngest gentleman. 'I give him
warning. No man shall step between me and the current of my
vengeance. I know a Cove--' he used that familiar epithet in his
agitation but corrected himself by adding, 'a gentleman of property,
I mean--who practices with a pair of pistols (fellows too) of his
own. If I am driven to borrow 'em, and to send at friend to Jinkins,
a tragedy will get into the papers. That's all.'

Again Mrs Todgers moaned.

'I have borne this long enough,' said the youngest gentleman but
now my soul rebels against it, and I won't stand it any longer. I
left home originally, because I had that within me which wouldn't be
domineered over by a sister; and do you think I'm going to be put
down by him? No.'

'It is very wrong in Mr Jinkins; I know it is perfectly
inexcusable in Mr Jinkins, if he intends it,' observed Mrs Todgers

'If he intends it!' cried the youngest gentleman. 'Don't he
interrupt and contradict me on every occasion? Does he ever fail to
interpose himself between me and anything or anybody that he sees I
have set my mind upon? Does he make a point of always pretending to
forget me, when he's pouring out the beer? Does he make bragging
remarks about his razors, and insulting allusions to people who have
no necessity to shave more than once a week? But let him look out!
He'll find himself shaved, pretty close, before long, and so I tell
him.'

The young gentleman was mistaken in this closing sentence,
inasmuch as he never told it to Jinkins, but always to Mrs
Todgers.

'However,' he said, 'these are not proper subjects for ladies'
ears. All I've got to say to you, Mrs Todgers, is, a week's notice
from next Saturday. The same house can't contain that miscreant and
me any longer. If we get over the intermediate time without
bloodshed, you may think yourself pretty fortunate. I don't myself
expect we shall.'

'Dear, dear!' cried Mrs Todgers, 'what would I have given to
have prevented this? To lose you, sir, would be like losing the
house's right-hand. So popular as you are among the gentlemen; so
generally looked up to; and so much liked! I do hope you'll think
better of it; if on nobody else's account, on mine.'

'There's Jinkins,' said the youngest gentleman, moodily. 'Your
favourite. He'll console you, and the gentlemen too, for the loss of
twenty such as me. I'm not understood in this house. I never have
been.'

'Don't run away with that opinion, sir!' cried Mrs Todgers, with
a show of honest indignation. 'Don't make such a charge as that
against the establishment, I must beg of you. It is not so bad as
that comes to, sir. Make any remark you please against the
gentlemen, or against me; but don't say you're not understood in this
house.'

'I'm not treated as if I was,' said the youngest gentleman.

'There you make a great mistake, sir,' returned Mrs Todgers, in
the same strain. 'As many of the gentlemen and I have often said,
you are too sensitive. That's where it is. You are of too
susceptible a nature; it's in your spirit.'

The young gentleman coughed.

'And as,' said Mrs Todgers, 'as to Mr Jinkins, I must beg of
you, if we are to part, to understand that I don't abet Mr Jinkins by
any means. Far from it. I could wish that Mr Jinkins would take a
lower tone in this establishment, and would not be the means of
raising differences between me and gentlemen that I can much less
bear to part with than I could with Mr Jinkins. Mr Jinkins is not
such a boarder, sir,' added Mrs Todgers, 'that all considerations of
private feeling and respect give way before him. Quite the contrary,
I assure you.'

The young gentleman was so much mollified by these and similar
speeches on the part of Mrs Todgers, that he and that lady gradually
changed positions; so that she became the injured party, and he was
understood to be the injurer; but in a complimentary, not in an
offensive sense; his cruel conduct being attributable to his exalted
nature, and to that alone. So, in the end, the young gentleman
withdrew his notice, and assured Mrs Todgers of his unalterable
regard; and having done so, went back to business.

'Goodness me, Miss Pecksniffs!' cried that lady, as she came
into the back room, and sat wearily down, with her basket on her
knees, and her hands folded upon it, 'what a trial of temper it is to
keep a house like this! You must have heard most of what has just
passed. Now did you ever hear the like?'

'Never!' said the two Miss Pecksniffs.

'Of all the ridiculous young fellows that ever I had to deal
with,' resumed Mrs Todgers, 'that is the most ridiculous and
unreasonable. Mr Jinkins is hard upon him sometimes, but not half as
hard as he deserves. To mention such a gentleman as Mr Jinkins in
the same breath with him--you know it's too much! And yet he's as
jealous of him, bless you, as if he was his equal.'

The young ladies were greatly entertained by Mrs Todgers's
account, no less than with certain anecdotes illustrative of the
youngest gentleman's character, which she went on to tell them. But
Mr Pecksniff looked quite stern and angry; and when she had
concluded, said in a solemn voice:

'Pray, Mrs Todgers, if I may inquire, what does that young
gentleman contribute towards the support of these premises?'

'Why, sir, for what he has, he pays about eighteen shillings a
week!' said Mrs Todgers.

'Eighteen shillings a week!' repeated Mr Pecksniff.

'Taking one week with another; as near that as possible,' said
Mrs Todgers.

Mr Pecksniff rose from his chair, folded his arms, looked at
her, and shook his head.

'And do you mean to say, ma'am--is it possible, Mrs
Todgers--that for such a miserable consideration as eighteen
shillings a week, a female of your understanding can so far demean
herself as to wear a double face, even for an instant?'

'I am forced to keep things on the square if I can, sir,'
faltered Mrs Todgers. 'I must preserve peace among them, and keep my
connection together, if possible, Mr Pecksniff. The profit is very
small.'

'The profit!' cried that gentleman, laying great stress upon the
word. 'The profit, Mrs Todgers! You amaze me!'

He was so severe, that Mrs Todgers shed tears.

'The profit!' repeated Mr pecksniff. 'The profit of
dissimulation! To worship the golden calf of Baal, for eighteen
shillings a week!'

'Don't in your own goodness be too hard upon me, Mr Pecksniff,'
cried Mrs Todgers, taking out her handkerchief.

'Oh Calf, Calf!' cried Mr Pecksniff mournfully. 'Oh, Baal,
Baal! oh my friend, Mrs Todgers! To barter away that precious jewel,
self- esteem, and cringe to any mortal creature--for eighteen
shillings a week!'

He was so subdued and overcome by the reflection, that he
immediately took down his hat from its peg in the passage, and went
out for a walk, to compose his feelings. Anybody passing him in the
street might have known him for a good man at first sight; for his
whole figure teemed with a consciousness of the moral homily he had
read to Mrs Todgers.

Eighteen shillings a week! Just, most just, thy censure,
upright Pecksniff! Had it been for the sake of a ribbon, star, or
garter; sleeves of lawn, a great man's smile, a seat in parliament, a
tap upon the shoulder from a courtly sword; a place, a party, or a
thriving lie, or eighteen thousand pounds, or even eighteen
hundred;--but to worship the golden calf for eighteen shillings a
week! oh pitiful, pitiful!