Chapter 34

The Old Curiosity Shop

by Charles Dickens

In course of time, that is to say, after a couple of hours or so,
of diligent application, Miss Brass arrived at the conclusion of her
task, and recorded the fact by wiping her pen upon the green gown,
and taking a pinch of snuff from a little round tin box which she
carried in her pocket. Having disposed of this temperate
refreshment, she arose from her stool, tied her papers into a formal
packet with red tape, and taking them under her arm, marched out of
the office.

Mr Swiveller had scarcely sprung off his seat and commenced the
performance of a maniac hornpipe, when he was interrupted, in the
fulness of his joy at being again alone, by the opening of the door,
and the reappearance of Miss Sally's head.

'I am going out,' said Miss Brass.

'Very good, ma'am,' returned Dick. 'And don't hurry yourself on
my account to come back, ma'am,' he added inwardly.

'If anybody comes on office business, take their messages, and
say that the gentleman who attends to that matter isn't in at
present, will you?' said Miss Brass.

'I will, ma'am,' replied Dick.

'I shan't be very long,' said Miss Brass, retiring.

'I'm sorry to hear it, ma'am,' rejoined Dick when she had shut
the door. 'I hope you may be unexpectedly detained, ma'am. If you
could manage to be run over, ma'am, but not seriously, so much the
better.'

Uttering these expressions of good-will with extreme gravity, Mr
Swiveller sat down in the client's chair and pondered; then took a
few turns up and down the room and fell into the chair again.

'So I'm Brass's clerk, am I?' said Dick. 'Brass's clerk, eh?
And the clerk of Brass's sister--clerk to a female Dragon. Very
good, very good! What shall I be next? Shall I be a convict in a
felt hat and a grey suit, trotting about a dockyard with my number
neatly embroidered on my uniform, and the order of the garter on my
leg, restrained from chafing my ankle by a twisted belcher
handkerchief? Shall I be that? Will that do, or is it too genteel?
Whatever you please, have it your own way, of course.'

As he was entirely alone, it may be presumed that, in these
remarks, Mr Swiveller addressed himself to his fate or destiny, whom,
as we learn by the precedents, it is the custom of heroes to taunt in
a very bitter and ironical manner when they find themselves in
situations of an unpleasant nature. This is the more probable from
the circumstance of Mr Swiveller directing his observations to the
ceiling, which these bodily personages are usually supposed to
inhabit--except in theatrical cases, when they live in the heart of
the great chandelier.

'Quilp offers me this place, which he says he can insure me,'
resumed Dick after a thoughtful silence, and telling off the
circumstances of his position, one by one, upon his fingers; 'Fred,
who, I could have taken my affidavit, would not have heard of such a
thing, backs Quilp to my astonishment, and urges me to take it
also--staggerer, number one! My aunt in the country stops the
supplies, and writes an affectionate note to say that she has made a
new will, and left me out of it--staggerer, number two. No money; no
credit; no support from Fred, who seems to turn steady all at once;
notice to quit the old lodgings--staggerers, three, four, five, and
six! Under an accumulation of staggerers, no man can be considered a
free agent. No man knocks himself down; if his destiny knocks him
down, his destiny must pick him up again. Then I'm very glad that
mine has brought all this upon itself, and I shall be as careless as
I can, and make myself quite at home to spite it. So go on my buck,'
said Mr Swiveller, taking his leave of the ceiling with a significant
nod, 'and let us see which of us will be tired first!'

Dismissing the subject of his downfall with these reflections,
which were no doubt very profound, and are indeed not altogether
unknown in certain systems of moral philosophy, Mr Swiveller shook
off his despondency and assumed the cheerful ease of an irresponsible
clerk.

As a means towards his composure and self-possession, he entered
into a more minute examination of the office than he had yet had time
to make; looked into the wig-box, the books, and ink-bottle; untied
and inspected all the papers; carved a few devices on the table with
a sharp blade of Mr Brass's penknife; and wrote his name on the
inside of the wooden coal-scuttle. Having, as it were, taken formal
possession of his clerkship in virtue of these proceedings, he opened
the window and leaned negligently out of it until a beer-boy happened
to pass, whom he commanded to set down his tray and to serve him with
a pint of mild porter, which he drank upon the spot and promptly paid
for, with the view of breaking ground for a system of future credit
and opening a correspondence tending thereto, without loss of time.
Then, three or four little boys dropped in, on legal errands from
three or four attorneys of the Brass grade: whom Mr Swiveller
received and dismissed with about as professional a manner, and as
correct and comprehensive an understanding of their business, as
would have been shown by a clown in a pantomime under similar
circumstances. These things done and over, he got upon his stool
again and tried his hand at drawing caricatures of Miss Brass with a
pen and ink, whistling very cheerfully all the time.

He was occupied in this diversion when a coach stopped near the
door, and presently afterwards there was a loud double-knock. As
this was no business of Mr Swiveller's, the person not ringing the
office bell, he pursued his diversion with perfect composure,
notwithstanding that he rather thought there was nobody else in the
house.

In this, however, he was mistaken; for, after the knock had been
repeated with increased impatience, the door was opened, and somebody
with a very heavy tread went up the stairs and into the room above.
Mr Swiveller was wondering whether this might be another Miss Brass,
twin sister to the Dragon, when there came a rapping of knuckles at
the office door.

'Come in!' said Dick. 'Don't stand upon ceremony. The business
will get rather complicated if I've many more customers. Come
in!'

'Oh, please,' said a little voice very low down in the doorway,
'will you come and show the lodgings?'

Dick leant over the table, and descried a small slipshod girl in
a dirty coarse apron and bib, which left nothing of her visible but
her face and feet. She might as well have been dressed in a
violin-case.

'Why, who are you?' said Dick.

To which the only reply was, 'Oh, please will you come and show
the lodgings?'

There never was such an old-fashioned child in her looks and
manner. She must have been at work from her cradle. She seemed as
much afraid of Dick, as Dick was amazed at her.

'I hav'n't got anything to do with the lodgings,' said Dick.
'Tell 'em to call again.'

'Oh, but please will you come and show the lodgings,' returned
the girl; 'It's eighteen shillings a week and us finding plate and
linen. Boots and clothes is extra, and fires in winter-time is
eightpence a day.'

'Why don't you show 'em yourself? You seem to know all about
'em,' said Dick.

'Miss Sally said I wasn't to, because people wouldn't believe
the attendance was good if they saw how small I was first.'

'Well, but they'll see how small you are afterwards, won't
they?' said Dick.

'Ah! But then they'll have taken 'em for a fortnight certain,'
replied the child with a shrewd look; 'and people don't like moving
when they're once settled.'

'This is a queer sort of thing,' muttered Dick, rising. 'What
do you mean to say you are--the cook?'

'Yes, I do plain cooking;' replied the child. 'I'm housemaid
too; I do all the work of the house.'

'I suppose Brass and the Dragon and I do the dirtiest part of
it,' thought Dick. And he might have thought much more, being in a
doubtful and hesitating mood, but that the girl again urged her
request, and certain mysterious bumping sounds on the passage and
staircase seemed to give note of the applicant's impatience. Richard
Swiveller, therefore, sticking a pen behind each ear, and carrying
another in his mouth as a token of his great importance and devotion
to business, hurried out to meet and treat with the single
gentleman.

He was a little surprised to perceive that the bumping sounds
were occasioned by the progress up-stairs of the single gentleman's
trunk, which, being nearly twice as wide as the staircase, and
exceedingly heavy withal, it was no easy matter for the united
exertions of the single gentleman and the coachman to convey up the
steep ascent. But there they were, crushing each other, and pushing
and pulling with all their might, and getting the trunk tight and
fast in all kinds of impossible angles, and to pass them was out of
the question; for which sufficient reason, Mr Swiveller followed
slowly behind, entering a new protest on every stair against the
house of Mr Sampson Brass being thus taken by storm.

To these remonstrances, the single gentleman answered not a
word, but when the trunk was at last got into the bed-room, sat down
upon it and wiped his bald head and face with his handkerchief. He
was very warm, and well he might be; for, not to mention the exertion
of getting the trunk up stairs, he was closely muffled in winter
garments, though the thermometer had stood all day at eighty-one in
the shade.

'I believe, sir,' said Richard Swiveller, taking his pen out of
his mouth, 'that you desire to look at these apartments. They are
very charming apartments, sir. They command an uninterrupted view
of-- of over the way, and they are within one minute's walk of--of
the corner of the street. There is exceedingly mild porter, sir, in
the immediate vicinity, and the contingent advantages are
extraordinary.'

'What's the rent?' said the single gentleman.

'One pound per week,' replied Dick, improving on the terms.

'I'll take 'em.'

'The boots and clothes are extras,' said Dick; 'and the fires in
winter time are--'

'Are all agreed to,' answered the single gentleman.

'Two weeks certain,' said Dick, 'are the--'

'Two weeks!' cried the single gentleman gruffly, eyeing him from
top to toe. 'Two years. I shall live here for two years. Here. Ten
pounds down. The bargain's made.'

'Why you see,' said Dick, 'my name is not Brass, and--'

'Who said it was? My name's not Brass. What then?'

'The name of the master of the house is,' said Dick.

'I'm glad of it,' returned the single gentleman; 'it's a good
name for a lawyer. Coachman, you may go. So may you, Sir.'

Mr Swiveller was so much confounded by the single gentleman
riding roughshod over him at this rate, that he stood looking at him
almost as hard as he had looked at Miss Sally. The single gentleman,
however, was not in the slightest degree affected by this
circumstance, but proceeded with perfect composure to unwind the
shawl which was tied round his neck, and then to pull off his boots.
Freed of these encumbrances, he went on to divest himself of his
other clothing, which he folded up, piece by piece, and ranged in
order on the trunk. Then, he pulled down the window-blinds, drew the
curtains, wound up his watch, and, quite leisurely and methodically,
got into bed.

'Take down the bill,' were his parting words, as he looked out
from between the curtains; 'and let nobody call me till I ring the
bell.'

With that the curtains closed, and he seemed to snore
immediately.

'This is a most remarkable and supernatural sort of house!' said
Mr Swiveller, as he walked into the office with the bill in his hand.
'She-dragons in the business, conducting themselves like professional
gentlemen; plain cooks of three feet high appearing mysteriously from
under ground; strangers walking in and going to bed without leave or
licence in the middle of the day! If he should be one of the
miraculous fellows that turn up now and then, and has gone to sleep
for two years, I shall be in a pleasant situation. It's my destiny,
however, and I hope Brass may like it. I shall be sorry if he don't.
But it's no business of mine--I have nothing whatever to do with
it!'