Chapter Twenty

Martin Chuzzlewit

by Charles Dickens

IS A CHAPTER OF LOVE

'Pecksniff,' said Jonas, taking off his hat, to see that the
black crape band was all right; and finding that it was, putting it
on again, complacently; 'what do you mean to give your daughters when
they marry?'

'My dear Mr Jonas,' cried the affectionate parent, with an
ingenuous smile, 'what a very singular inquiry!'

'Now, don't you mind whether it's a singular inquiry or a plural
one,' retorted Jonas, eyeing Mr Pecksniff with no great favour, 'but
answer it, or let it alone. One or the other.'

'Hum! The question, my dear friend,' said Mr Pecksniff, laying
his hand tenderly upon his kinsman's knee, 'is involved with many
considerations. What would I give them? Eh?'

'Ah! what would you give 'em?' repeated Jonas.

'Why, that, 'said Mr Pecksniff, 'would naturally depend in a
great measure upon the kind of husbands they might choose, my dear
young friend.'

Mr Jonas was evidently disconcerted, and at a loss how to
proceed. It was a good answer. It seemed a deep one, but such is the
wisdom of simplicity!'

'My standard for the merits I would require in a son-in-law,'
said Mr Pecksniff, after a short silence, 'is a high one. Forgive
me, my dear Mr Jonas,' he added, greatly moved, 'if I say that you
have spoiled me, and made it a fanciful one; an imaginative one; a
prismatically tinged one, if I may be permitted to call it so.'

'What do you mean by that?' growled Jonas, looking at him with
increased disfavour.

'Indeed, my dear friend,' said Mr Pecksniff, 'you may well
inquire. The heart is not always a royal mint, with patent machinery
to work its metal into current coin. Sometimes it throws it out in
strange forms, not easily recognized as coin at all. But it is
sterling gold. It has at least that merit. It is sterling gold.'

'Is it?' grumbled Jonas, with a doubtful shake of the head.

'Aye!' said Mr Pecksniff, warming with his subject 'it is. To
be plain with you, Mr Jonas, if I could find two such sons-in-law as
you will one day make to some deserving man, capable of appreciating
a nature such as yours, I would--forgetful of myself--bestow upon my
daughters portions reaching to the very utmost limit of my means.'

This was strong language, and it was earnestly delivered. But
who can wonder that such a man as Mr Pecksniff, after all he had seen
and heard of Mr Jonas, should be strong and earnest upon such a
theme; a theme that touched even the worldly lips of undertakers with
the honey of eloquence!

Mr Jonas was silent, and looked thoughtfully at the landscape.
For they were seated on the outside of the coach, at the back, and
were travelling down into the country. He accompanied Mr Pecksniff
home for a few days' change of air and scene after his recent
trials.

'Well,' he said, at last, with captivating bluntness, 'suppose
you got one such son-in-law as me, what then?'

Mr Pecksniff regarded him at first with inexpressible surprise;
then gradually breaking into a sort of dejected vivacity, said:

'Then well I know whose husband he would be!'

'Whose?' asked Jonas, drily.

'My eldest girl's, Mr Jonas,' replied Pecksniff, with moistening
eyes. 'My dear Cherry's; my staff, my scrip, my treasure, Mr Jonas.
A hard struggle, but it is in the nature of things! I must one day
part with her to a husband. I know it, my dear friend. I am
prepared for it.'

'Ecod! you've been prepared for that a pretty long time, I
should think,' said Jonas.

'Many have sought to bear her from me,' said Mr Pecksniff. 'All
have failed. "I never will give my hand, papa"--those were her
words--"unless my heart is won." She has not been quite so happy as
she used to be, of late. I don't know why.'

Again Mr Jonas looked at the landscape; then at the coachman;
then at the luggage on the roof; finally at Mr Pecksniff.

'I suppose you'll have to part with the other one, some of these
days?' he observed, as he caught that gentleman's eye.

'Probably,' said the parent. 'Years will tame down the wildness
of my foolish bird, and then it will be caged. But Cherry, Mr Jonas,
Cherry--'

'Oh, ah!' interrupted Jonas. 'Years have made her all right
enough. Nobody doubts that. But you haven't answered what I asked
you. Of course, you're not obliged to do it, you know, if you don't
like. You're the best judge.'

There was a warning sulkiness in the manner of this speech,
which admonished Mr Pecksniff that his dear friend was not to be
trifled with or fenced off, and that he must either return a
straight- forward reply to his question, or plainly give him to
understand that he declined to enlighten him upon the subject to
which it referred. Mindful in this dilemma of the caution old
Anthony had given him almost with his latest breath, he resolved to
speak to the point, and so told Mr Jonas (enlarging upon the
communication as a proof of his great attachment and confidence),
that in the case he had put; to wit, in the event of such a man as he
proposing for his daughter's hand, he would endow her with a fortune
of four thousand pounds.

'I should sadly pinch and cramp myself to do so,' was his
fatherly remark; 'but that would be my duty, and my conscience would
reward me. For myself, my conscience is my bank. I have a trifle
invested there--a mere trifle, Mr Jonas--but I prize it as a store of
value, I assure you.'

The good man's enemies would have divided upon this question
into two parties. One would have asserted without scruple that if Mr
Pecksniff's conscience were his bank, and he kept a running account
there, he must have overdrawn it beyond all mortal means of
computation. The other would have contended that it was a mere
fictitious form; a perfectly blank book; or one in which entries were
only made with a peculiar kind of invisible ink to become legible at
some indefinite time; and that he never troubled it at all.

'It would sadly pinch and cramp me, my dear friend,' repeated Mr
Pecksniff, 'but Providence--perhaps I may be permitted to say a
special Providence--has blessed my endeavours, and I could guarantee
to make the sacrifice.'

A question of philosophy arises here, whether Mr Pecksniff had
or had not good reason to say that he was specially patronized and
encouraged in his undertakings. All his life long he had been
walking up and down the narrow ways and by-places, with a hook in one
hand and a crook in the other, scraping all sorts of valuable odds
and ends into his pouch. Now, there being a special Providence in
the fall of a sparrow, it follows (so Mr Pecksniff, and only such
admirable men, would have reasoned), that there must also be a
special Providence in the alighting of the stone or stick, or other
substance which is aimed at the sparrow. And Mr Pecksniff's hook, or
crook, having invariably knocked the sparrow on the head and brought
him down, that gentleman may have been led to consider himself as
specially licensed to bag sparrows, and as being specially seized and
possessed of all the birds he had got together. That many
undertakings, national as well as individual--but especially the
former--are held to be specially brought to a glorious and successful
issue, which never could be so regarded on any other process of
reasoning, must be clear to all men. Therefore the precedents would
seem to show that Mr Pecksniff had (as things go) good argument for
what he said and might be permitted to say it, and did not say it
presumptuously, vainly, or arrogantly, but in a spirit of high faith
and great wisdom.

Mr Jonas, not being much accustomed to perplex his mind with
theories of this nature, expressed no opinion on the subject. Nor
did he receive his companion's announcement with one solitary
syllable, good, bad, or indifferent. He preserved this taciturnity
for a quarter of an hour at least, and during the whole of that time
appeared to be steadily engaged in subjecting some given amount to
the operation of every known rule in figures; adding to it, taking
from it, multiplying it, reducing it by long and short division;
working it by the rule-of-three direct and inversed; exchange or
barter; practice; simple interest; compound interest; and other means
of arithmetical calculation. The result of these labours appeared to
be satisfactory, for when he did break silence, it was as one who had
arrived at some specific result, and freed himself from a state of
distressing uncertainty.

'Come, old Pecksniff!'--Such was his jocose address, as he
slapped that gentleman on the back, at the end of the stage--'let's
have something!'

'With all my heart,' said Mr Pecksniff.

'Let's treat the driver,' cried Jonas.

'If you think it won't hurt the man, or render him discontented
with his station--certainly,' faltered Mr Pecksniff.

Jonas only laughed at this, and getting down from the coach-top
with great alacrity, cut a cumbersome kind of caper in the road.
After which, he went into the public-house, and there ordered
spirituous drink to such an extent, that Mr Pecksniff had some doubts
of his perfect sanity, until Jonas set them quite at rest by saying,
when the coach could wait no longer:

'I've been standing treat for a whole week and more, and letting
you have all the delicacies of the season. You shall pay for this
Pecksniff.' It was not a joke either, as Mr Pecksniff at first
supposed; for he went off to the coach without further ceremony, and
left his respected victim to settle the bill.

But Mr Pecksniff was a man of meek endurance, and Mr Jonas was
his friend. Moreover, his regard for that gentleman was founded, as
we know, on pure esteem, and a knowledge of the excellence of his
character. He came out from the tavern with a smiling face, and even
went so far as to repeat the performance, on a less expensive scale,
at the next ale-house. There was a certain wildness in the spirits
of Mr Jonas (not usually a part of his character) which was far from
being subdued by these means, and, for the rest of the journey, he
was so very buoyant--it may be said, boisterous--that Mr Pecksniff
had some difficulty in keeping pace with him.

They were not expected--oh dear, no! Mr Pecksniff had proposed
in London to give the girls a surprise, and had said he wouldn't
write a word to prepare them on any account, in order that he and Mr
Jonas might take them unawares, and just see what they were doing,
when they thought their dear papa was miles and miles away. As a
consequence of this playful device, there was nobody to meet them at
the finger-post, but that was of small consequence, for they had come
down by the day coach, and Mr Pecksniff had only a carpetbag, while
Mr Jonas had only a portmanteau. They took the portmanteau between
them, put the bag upon it, and walked off up the lane without delay;
Mr Pecksniff already going on tiptoe as if, without this precaution,
his fond children, being then at a distance of a couple of miles or
so, would have some filial sense of his approach.

It was a lovely evening in the spring-time of the year; and in
the soft stillness of the twilight, all nature was very calm and
beautiful. The day had been fine and warm; but at the coming on of
night, the air grew cool, and in the mellowing distance smoke was
rising gently from the cottage chimneys. There were a thousand
pleasant scents diffused around, from young leaves and fresh buds;
the cuckoo had been singing all day long, and was but just now
hushed; the smell of earth newly-upturned, first breath of hope to
the first labourer after his garden withered, was fragrant in the
evening breeze. It was a time when most men cherish good resolves,
and sorrow for the wasted past; when most men, looking on the shadows
as they gather, think of that evening which must close on all, and
that to-morrow which has none beyond.

'Precious dull,' said Mr Jonas, looking about. 'It's enough to
make a man go melancholy mad.'

'We shall have lights and a fire soon,' observed Mr
Pecksniff.

'We shall need 'em by the time we get there,' said Jonas. 'Why
the devil don't you talk? What are you thinking of?'

'To tell you the truth, Mr Jonas,' said Pecksniff with great
solemnity, 'my mind was running at that moment on our late dear
friend, your departed father.'

Mr Jonas immediately let his burden fall, and said, threatening
him with his hand:

'Drop that, Pecksniff!'

Mr Pecksniff not exactly knowing whether allusion was made to
the subject or the portmanteau, stared at his friend in unaffected
surprise.

'Drop it, I say!' cried Jonas, fiercely. 'Do you hear? Drop
it, now and for ever. You had better, I give you notice!'

'It was quite a mistake,' urged Mr Pecksniff, very much
dismayed; 'though I admit it was foolish. I might have known it was
a tender string.'

'Don't talk to me about tender strings,' said Jonas, wiping his
forehead with the cuff of his coat. 'I'm not going to be crowed over
by you, because I don't like dead company.'

Mr Pecksniff had got out the words 'Crowed over, Mr Jonas!' when
that young man, with a dark expression in his countenance, cut him
short once more:

'Mind!' he said. 'I won't have it. I advise you not to revive
the subject, neither to me nor anybody else. You can take a hint, if
you choose as well as another man. There's enough said about it.
Come along!'

Taking up his part of the load again, when he had said these
words, he hurried on so fast that Mr Pecksniff, at the other end of
the portmanteau, found himself dragged forward, in a very
inconvenient and ungraceful manner, to the great detriment of what is
called by fancy gentlemen 'the bark' upon his shins, which were most
unmercifully bumped against the hard leather and the iron buckles. In
the course of a few minutes, however, Mr Jonas relaxed his speed, and
suffered his companion to come up with him, and to bring the
portmanteau into a tolerably straight position.

It was pretty clear that he regretted his late outbreak, and
that he mistrusted its effect on Mr Pecksniff; for as often as that
gentleman glanced towards Mr Jonas, he found Mr Jonas glancing at
him, which was a new source of embarrassment. It was but a short-
lived one, though, for Mr Jonas soon began to whistle, whereupon Mr
Pecksniff, taking his cue from his friend, began to hum a tune
melodiously.

'Pretty nearly there, ain't we?' said Jonas, when this had
lasted some time.

'Close, my dear friend,' said Mr Pecksniff.

'What'll they be doing, do you suppose?' asked Jonas.

'Impossible to say,' cried Mr Pecksniff. 'Giddy truants! They
may be away from home, perhaps. I was going to--he! he! he!--I was
going to propose,' said Mr Pecksniff, 'that we should enter by the
back way, and come upon them like a clap of thunder, Mr Jonas.'

It might not have been easy to decide in respect of which of
their manifold properties, Jonas, Mr Pecksniff, the carpet-bag, and
the portmanteau, could be likened to a clap of thunder. But Mr Jonas
giving his assent to this proposal, they stole round into the back
yard, and softly advanced towards the kitchen window, through which
the mingled light of fire and candle shone upon the darkening
night.

Truly Mr Pecksniff is blessed in his children--in one of them,
at any rate. The prudent Cherry--staff and scrip, and treasure of
her doting father--there she sits, at a little table white as driven
snow, before the kitchen fire, making up accounts! See the neat
maiden, as with pen in hand, and calculating look addressed towards
the ceiling and bunch of keys within a little basket at her side, she
checks the housekeeping expenditure! From flat-iron, dish-cover, and
warming-pan; from pot and kettle, face of brass footman, and
black-leaded stove; bright glances of approbation wink and glow upon
her. The very onions dangling from the beam, mantle and shine like
cherubs' cheeks. Something of the influence of those vegetables
sinks into Mr Pecksniff's nature. He weeps.

It is but for a moment, and he hides it from the observation of
his friend--very carefully--by a somewhat elaborate use of his
pocket- handkerchief, in fact; for he would not have his weakness
known.

'Pleasant,' he murmured, 'pleasant to a father's feelings! My
dear girl! Shall we let her know we are here, Mr Jonas?'

'Why, I suppose you don't mean to spend the evening in the
stable, or the coach-house,' he returned.

'That, indeed, is not such hospitality as I would show to you,
my friend,' cried Mr Pecksniff, pressing his hand. And then he took
a long breath, and tapping at the window, shouted with stentorian
blandness:

'Boh!'

Cherry dropped her pen and screamed. But innocence is ever
bold, or should be. As they opened the door, the valiant girl
exclaimed in a firm voice, and with a presence of mind which even in
that trying moment did not desert her, 'Who are you? What do you
want? Speak! or I will call my Pa.'

Mr Pecksniff held out his arms. She knew him instantly, and
rushed into his fond embrace.

'It was thoughtless of us, Mr Jonas, it was very thoughtless,'
said Pecksniff, smoothing his daugther's hair. 'My darling, do you
see that I am not alone!'

Not she. She had seen nothing but her father until now. She
saw Mr Jonas now, though; and blushed, and hung her head down, as she
gave him welcome.

But where was Merry? Mr Pecksniff didn't ask the question in
reproach, but in a vein of mildness touched with a gentle sorrow. She
was upstairs, reading on the parlour couch. Ah! Domestic details
had no charms for her. 'But call her down,' said Mr Pecksniff, with
a placid resignation. 'Call her down, my love.'

She was called and came, all flushed and tumbled from reposing
on the sofa; but none the worse for that. No, not at all. Rather
the better, if anything.

'Oh my goodness me!' cried the arch girl, turning to her cousin
when she had kissed her father on both cheeks, and in her frolicsome
nature had bestowed a supernumerary salute upon the tip of his nose,
'You here, fright! Well, I'm very thankful that you won't trouble me
much!'

'What! you're as lively as ever, are you?' said Jonas. 'Oh!
You're a wicked one!'

'There, go along!' retorted Merry, pushing him away. 'I'm sure
I don't know what I shall ever do, if I have to see much of you. Go
along, for gracious' sake!'

Mr Pecksniff striking in here, with a request that Mr Jonas
would immediately walk upstairs, he so far complied with the young
lady's adjuration as to go at once. But though he had the fair
Cherry on his arm, he could not help looking back at her sister, and
exchanging some further dialogue of the same bantering description,
as they all four ascended to the parlour; where--for the young ladies
happened, by good fortune, to be a little later than usual that
night--the tea-board was at that moment being set out.

Mr Pinch was not at home, so they had it all to themselves, and
were very snug and talkative, Jonas sitting between the two sisters,
and displaying his gallantry in that engaging manner which was
peculiar to him. It was a hard thing, Mr Pecksniff said, when tea
was done, and cleared away, to leave so pleasant a little party, but
having some important papers to examine in his own apartment, he must
beg them to excuse him for half an hour. With this apology he
withdrew, singing a careless strain as he went. He had not been gone
five minutes, when Merry, who had been sitting in the window, apart
from Jonas and her sister, burst into a half-smothered laugh, and
skipped towards the door.

'Hallo!' cried Jonas. 'Don't go.'

'Oh, I dare say!' rejoined Merry, looking back. 'You're very
anxious I should stay, fright, ain't you?'

'Yes, I am,' said Jonas. 'Upon my word I am. I want to speak
to you.' But as she left the room notwithstanding, he ran out after
her, and brought her back, after a short struggle in the passage
which scandalized Miss Cherry very much.

'Upon my word, Merry,' urged that young lady, 'I wonder at you!
There are bounds even to absurdity, my dear.'

'Thank you, my sweet,' said Merry, pursing up her rosy Lips.
'Much obliged to it for its advice. Oh! do leave me alone, you
monster, do!' This entreaty was wrung from her by a new proceeding
on the part of Mr Jonas, who pulled her down, all breathless as she
was, into a seat beside him on the sofa, having at the same time Miss
Cherry upon the other side.

'Now,' said Jonas, clasping the waist of each; 'I have got both
arms full, haven't I?'

'One of them will be black and blue to-morrow, if you don't let
me go,' cried the playful Merry.

'Ah! I don't mind your pinching,' grinned Jonas, 'a bit.'

'Pinch him for me, Cherry, pray,' said Mercy. 'I never did hate
anybody so much as I hate this creature, I declare!'

'No, no, don't say that,' urged Jonas, 'and don't pinch either,
because I want to be serious. I say--Cousin Charity--'

'Well! what?' she answered sharply.

'I want to have some sober talk,' said Jonas; 'I want to prevent
any mistakes, you know, and to put everything upon a pleasant
understanding. That's desirable and proper, ain't it?'

Neither of the sisters spoke a word. Mr Jonas paused and
cleared his throat, which was very dry.

'She'll not believe what I am going to say, will she, cousin?'
said Jonas, timidly squeezing Miss Charity.

'Really, Mr Jonas, I don't know, until I hear what it is. It's
quite impossible!'

'Why, you see,' said Jonas, 'her way always being to make game
of people, I know she'll laugh, or pretend to--I know that,
beforehand. But you can tell her I'm in earnest, cousin; can't you?
You'll confess you know, won't you? You'll be honourable, I'm sure,'
he added persuasively.

No answer. His throat seemed to grow hotter and hotter, and to
be more and more difficult of control.

'You see, Cousin Charity,' said Jonas, 'nobody but you can tell
her what pains I took to get into her company when you were both at
the boarding-house in the city, because nobody's so well aware of it,
you know. Nobody else can tell her how hard I tried to get to know
you better, in order that I might get to know her without seeming to
wish it; can they? I always asked you about her, and said where had
she gone, and when would she come, and how lively she was, and all
that; didn't I, cousin? I know you'll tell her so, if you haven't
told her so already, and--and--I dare say you have, because I'm sure
you're honourable, ain't you?'

Still not a word. The right arm of Mr Jonas--the elder sister
sat upon his right--may have been sensible of some tumultuous
throbbing which was not within itself; but nothing else apprised him
that his words had had the least effect.

'Even if you kept it to yourself, and haven't told her,' resumed
Jonas, 'it don't much matter, because you'll bear honest witness now;
won't you? We've been very good friends from the first; haven't we?
and of course we shall be quite friends in future, and so I don't
mind speaking before you a bit. Cousin Mercy, you've heard what I've
been saying. She'll confirm it, every word; she must. Will you have
me for your husband? Eh?'

As he released his hold of Charity, to put this question with
better effect, she started up and hurried away to her own room,
marking her progress as she went by such a train of passionate and
incoherent sound, as nothing but a slighted woman in her anger could
produce.

'Let me go away. Let me go after her,' said Merry, pushing him
off, and giving him--to tell the truth--more than one sounding slap
upon his outstretched face.

'Not till you say yes. You haven't told me. Will you have me
for your husband?'

'No, I won't. I can't bear the sight of you. I have told you
so a hundred times. You are a fright. Besides, I always thought you
liked my sister best. We all thought so.'

'But that wasn't my fault,' said Jonas.

'Yes it was; you know it was.'

'Any trick is fair in love,' said Jonas. 'She may have thought
I liked her best, but you didn't.'

'I did!'

'No, you didn't. You never could have thought I liked her best,
when you were by.'

'There's no accounting for tastes,' said Merry; 'at least I
didn't mean to say that. I don't know what I mean. Let me go to
her.'

'Say "Yes," and then I will.'

'If I ever brought myself to say so, it should only be that I
might hate and tease you all my life.'

'That's as good,' cried Jonas, 'as saying it right out. It's a
bargain, cousin. We're a pair, if ever there was one.'

This gallant speech was succeeded by a confused noise of kissing
and slapping; and then the fair but much dishevelled Merry broke
away, and followed in the footsteps of her sister.

Now whether Mr Pecksniff had been listening--which in one of his
character appears impossible; or divined almost by inspiration what
the matter was--which, in a man of his sagacity is far more probable;
or happened by sheer good fortune to find himself in exactly the
right place, at precisely the right time--which, under the special
guardianship in which he lived might very reasonably happen; it is
quite certain that at the moment when the sisters came together in
their own room, he appeared at the chamber door. And a marvellous
contrast it was--they so heated, noisy, and vehement; he so calm, so
self-possessed, so cool and full of peace, that not a hair upon his
head was stirred.

'Children!' said Mr Pecksniff, spreading out his hands in
wonder, but not before he had shut the door, and set his back against
it. 'Girls! Daughters! What is this?'

'The wretch; the apostate; the false, mean, odious villain; has
before my very face proposed to Mercy!' was his eldest daughter's
answer.

'Who has proposed to Mercy!' asked Mr Pecksniff.

'He has. That thing, Jonas, downstairs.'

'Jonas proposed to Mercy?' said Mr Pecksniff. 'Aye, aye!
Indeed!'

'Have you nothing else to say?' cried Charity. 'Am I to be
driven mad, papa? He has proposed to Mercy, not to me.'

'Oh, fie! For shame!' said Mr Pecksniff, gravely. 'Oh, for
shame! Can the triumph of a sister move you to this terrible display,
my child? Oh, really this is very sad! I am sorry; I am surprised
and hurt to see you so. Mercy, my girl, bless you! See to her. Ah,
envy, envy, what a passion you are!'

Uttering this apostrophe in a tone full of grief and
lamentation, Mr Pecksniff left the room (taking care to shut the door
behind him), and walked downstairs into the parlour. There he found
his intended son-in-law, whom he seized by both hands.

'Jonas!' cried Mr Pecksniff. 'Jonas! the dearest wish of my
heart is now fulfilled!'

'Very well; I'm glad to hear it,' said Jonas. 'That'll do. I
say! As it ain't the one you're so fond of, you must come down with
another thousand, Pecksniff. You must make it up five. It's worth
that, to keep your treasure to yourself, you know. You get off very
cheap that way, and haven't a sacrifice to make.'

The grin with which he accompanied this, set off his other
attractions to such unspeakable advantage, that even Mr Pecksniff
lost his presence of mind for a moment, and looked at the young man
as if he were quite stupefied with wonder and admiration. But he
quickly regained his composure, and was in the very act of changing
the subject, when a hasty step was heard without, and Tom Pinch, in a
state of great excitement, came darting into the room.

On seeing a stranger there, apparently engaged with Mr Pecksniff
in private conversation, Tom was very much abashed, though he still
looked as if he had something of great importance to communicate,
which would be a sufficient apology for his intrusion.

'Mr Pinch,' said Pecksniff, 'this is hardly decent. You will
excuse my saying that I think your conduct scarcely decent, Mr
Pinch.'

'I beg your pardon, sir,' replied Tom, 'for not knocking at the
door.'

'Rather beg this gentleman's pardon, Mr Pinch,' said Pecksniff.
'I know you; he does not.--My young man, Mr Jonas.'

The son-in-law that was to be gave him a slight nod--not
actively disdainful or contemptuous, only passively; for he was in a
good humour.

'Could I speak a word with you, sir, if you please?' said Tom.
'It's rather pressing.'

'It should be very pressing to justify this strange behaviour,
Mr Pinch,' returned his master. 'Excuse me for one moment, my dear
friend. Now, sir, what is the reason of this rough intrusion?'

'I am very sorry, sir, I am sure,' said Tom, standing, cap in
hand, before his patron in the passage; 'and I know it must have a
very rude appearance--'

'It has a very rude appearance, Mr Pinch.'

'Yes, I feel that, sir; but the truth is, I was so surprised to
see them, and knew you would be too, that I ran home very fast
indeed, and really hadn't enough command over myself to know what I
was doing very well. I was in the church just now, sir, touching the
organ for my own amusement, when I happened to look round, and saw a
gentleman and lady standing in the aisle listening. They seemed to
be strangers, sir, as well as I could make out in the dusk; and I
thought I didn't know them; so presently I left off, and said, would
they walk up into the organ-loft, or take a seat? No, they said,
they wouldn't do that; but they thanked me for the music they had
heard. In fact,' observed Tom, blushing, 'they said, "Delicious
music!" at least, she did; and I am sure that was a greater pleasure
and honour to me than any compliment I could have had. I--I--beg
your pardon sir;' he was all in a tremble, and dropped his hat for
the second time 'but I--I'm rather flurried, and I fear I've wandered
from the point.'

'If you will come back to it, Thomas,' said Mr Pecksniff, with
an icy look, 'I shall feel obliged.'

'Yes, sir,' returned Tom, 'certainly. They had a posting
carriage at the porch, sir, and had stopped to hear the organ, they
said. And then they said--she said, I mean, "I believe you live with
Mr Pecksniff, sir?" I said I had that honour, and I took the
liberty, sir,' added Tom, raising his eyes to his benefactor's face,
'of saying, as I always will and must, with your permission, that I
was under great obligations to you, and never could express my sense
of them sufficiently.'

'That,' said Mr Pecksniff, 'was very, very wrong. Take your
time, Mr Pinch.'

'Thank you, sir,' cried Tom. 'On that they asked me--she asked,
I mean--"Wasn't there a bridle road to Mr Pecksniff's house?"'

Mr Pecksniff suddenly became full of interest.

'"Without going by the Dragon?" When I said there was, and said
how happy I should be to show it 'em, they sent the carriage on by
the road, and came with me across the meadows. I left 'em at the
turnstile to run forward and tell you they were coming, and they'll
be here, sir, in--in less than a minute's time, I should say,' added
Tom, fetching his breath with difficulty.

'Now, who,' said Mr Pecksniff, pondering, 'who may these people
be?'

'Bless my soul, sir!' cried Tom, 'I meant to mention that at
first, I thought I had. I knew them--her, I mean--directly. The
gentleman who was ill at the Dragon, sir, last winter; and the young
lady who attended him.'

Tom's teeth chattered in his head, and he positively staggered
with amazement, at witnessing the extraordinary effect produced on Mr
Pecksniff by these simple words. The dread of losing the old man's
favour almost as soon as they were reconciled, through the mere fact
of having Jonas in the house; the impossibility of dismissing Jonas,
or shutting him up, or tying him hand and foot and putting him in the
coal-cellar, without offending him beyond recall; the horrible
discordance prevailing in the establishment, and the impossibility of
reducing it to decent harmony with Charity in loud hysterics, Mercy
in the utmost disorder, Jonas in the parlour, and Martin Chuzzlewit
and his young charge upon the very doorsteps; the total hopelessness
of being able to disguise or feasibly explain this state of rampant
confusion; the sudden accumulation over his devoted head of every
complicated perplexity and entanglement for his extrication from
which he had trusted to time, good fortune, chance, and his own
plotting, so filled the entrapped architect with dismay, that if Tom
could have been a Gorgon staring at Mr Pecksniff, and Mr Pecksniff
could have been a Gorgon staring at Tom, they could not have
horrified each other half so much as in their own bewildered
persons.

'Dear, dear!' cried Tom, 'what have I done? I hoped it would be
a pleasant surprise, sir. I thought you would like to know.'

But at that moment a loud knocking was heard at the hall
door.