Martin Chuzzlewit
mild and gentle deprecation of his answering with a laugh. John Westlock
would as soon have thought of striking him down upon the floor.
‘It was all a dream of mine,’ said Tom, ‘and it is over. I’ll tell you
how it happened, at some other time. Bear with my folly, John. I do not,
just now, like to think or speak about it.’
‘I swear to you, Tom,’ returned his friend, with great earnestness of
manner, after remaining silent for a few moments, ‘that when I see, as
I do now, how deeply you feel this, I don’t know whether to be glad or
sorry that you have made the discovery at last. I reproach myself with
the thought that I ever jested on the subject; I ought to have known
better.’
‘My dear friend,’ said Tom, extending his hand, ‘it is very generous and
gallant in you to receive me and my disclosure in this spirit; it makes
me blush to think that I should have felt a moment’s uneasiness as I
came along. You can’t think what a weight is lifted off my mind,’ said
Tom, taking up his knife and fork again, and looking very cheerful. ‘I
shall punish the Boar’s Head dreadfully.’
The host, thus reminded of his duties, instantly betook himself to
piling up all kinds of irreconcilable and contradictory viands in Tom’s
plate, and a very capital breakfast Tom made, and very much the better
for it Tom felt.
‘That’s all right,’ said John, after contemplating his visitor’s
proceedings with infinite satisfaction. ‘Now, about our plans. You are
going to stay with me, of course. Where’s your box?’
‘It’s at the Inn,’ said Tom. ‘I didn’t intend--’
‘Never mind what you didn’t intend,’ John Westlock interposed. ‘What you
DID intend is more to the purpose. You intended, in coming here, to ask
my advice, did you not, Tom?’
‘Certainly.’
‘And to take it when I gave it to you?’
‘Yes,’ rejoined Tom, smiling, ‘if it were good advice, which, being
yours, I have no doubt it will be.’
‘Very well. Then don’t be an obstinate old humbug in the outset, Tom, or
I shall shut up shop and dispense none of that invaluable commodity. You
are on a visit to me. I wish I had an organ for you, Tom!’
‘So do the gentlemen downstairs, and the gentlemen overhead I have no
doubt,’ was Tom’s reply.
‘Let me see. In the first place, you will wish to see your sister this
morning,’ pursued his friend, ‘and of course you will like to go there
alone. I’ll walk part of the way with you; and see about a little
business of my own, and meet you here again in the afternoon. Put that
in your pocket, Tom. It’s only the key of the door. If you come home
first you’ll want it.’
‘Really,’ said Tom, ‘quartering one’s self upon a friend in this way--’
‘Why, there are two keys,’ interposed John Westlock. ‘I can’t open the
door with them both at once, can I? What a ridiculous fellow you are,
Tom? Nothing particular you’d like for dinner, is there?’
‘Oh dear no,’ said Tom.
‘Very well, then you may as well leave it to me. Have a glass of cherry
brandy, Tom?’
‘Not a drop! What remarkable chambers these are!’ said Pinch ‘there’s
everything in ‘em!’
‘Bless your soul, Tom, nothing but a few little bachelor contrivances!
the sort of impromptu arrangements that might have suggested themselves
to Philip Quarll or Robinson Crusoe, that’s all. What do you say? Shall
we walk?’
‘By all means,’ cried Tom. ‘As soon as you like.’
Accordingly John Westlock took the French rolls out of his boots, and
put his boots on, and dressed himself; giving Tom the paper to read in
the meanwhile. When he returned, equipped for walking, he found Tom in a
brown study, with the paper in his hand.
‘Dreaming, Tom?’
‘No,’ said Mr Pinch, ‘No. I have been looking over the advertising
sheet, thinking there might be something in it which would be likely
to suit me. But, as I often think, the strange thing seems to be that
nobody is suited. Here are all kinds of employers wanting all sorts of
servants, and all sorts of servants wanting all kinds of employers, and
they never seem to come together. Here is a gentleman in a public office
in a position of temporary difficulty, who wants to borrow five hundred
pounds; and in the very next advertisement here is another gentleman who
has got exactly that sum to lend. But he’ll never lend it to him, John,
you’ll find! Here is a lady possessing a moderate independence, who
wants to board and lodge with a quiet, cheerful family; and here is a
family describing themselves in those very words, “a quiet, cheerful
family,” who want exactly such a lady to come and live with them. But
she’ll never go, John! Neither do any of these single gentlemen who want
an airy bedroom, with the occasional use of a parlour, ever appear to
come to terms with these other people who live in a rural situation
remarkable for its bracing atmosphere, within five minutes’ walk of
the Royal Exchange. Even those letters of the alphabet who are always
running away from their friends and being entreated at the tops of
columns to come back, never DO come back, if we may judge from the
number of times they are asked to do it and don’t. It really seems,’
said Tom, relinquishing the paper with a thoughtful sigh, ‘as if people
had the same gratification in printing their complaints as in making
them known by word of mouth; as if they found it a comfort and
consolation to proclaim “I want such and such a thing, and I can’t get
it, and I don’t expect I ever shall!”’
John Westlock laughed at the idea, and they went out together. So many
years had passed since Tom was last in London, and he had known so
little of it then, that his interest in all he saw was very great. He
was particularly anxious, among other notorious localities, to have
those streets pointed out to him which were appropriated to the
slaughter of countrymen; and was quite disappointed to find, after
half-an-hour’s walking, that he hadn’t had his pocket picked. But
on John Westlock’s inventing a pickpocket for his gratification, and
pointing out a highly respectable stranger as one of that fraternity, he
was much delighted.
His friend accompanied him to within a short distance of Camberwell
and having put him beyond the possibility of mistaking the wealthy
brass-and-copper founder’s, left him to make his visit. Arriving before
the great bell-handle, Tom gave it a gentle pull. The porter appeared.
‘Pray does Miss Pinch live here?’ said Tom.
‘Miss Pinch is governess here,’ replied the porter.
At the same time he looked at Tom from head to foot, as if he would have
said, ‘You are a nice man, YOU are; where did YOU come from?’
‘It’s the same young lady,’ said Tom. ‘It’s quite right. Is she at
home?’
‘I don’t know, I’m sure,’ rejoined the porter.
‘Do you think you could have the goodness to ascertain?’ said Tom. He
had quite a delicacy in offering the suggestion, for the possibility
of such a step did not appear to present itself to the porter’s mind at
all.
The fact was that the porter in answering the gate-bell had, according
to usage, rung the house-bell (for it is as well to do these things in
the Baronial style while you are about it), and that there the functions
of his office had ceased. Being hired to open and shut the gate, and
not to explain himself to strangers, he left this little incident to be
developed by the footman with the tags, who, at this juncture, called
out from the door steps:
‘Hollo, there! wot are you up to? This way, young man!’
‘Oh!’ said Tom, hurrying towards him. ‘I didn’t observe that there was
anybody else. Pray is Miss Pinch at home?’
‘She’s IN,’ replied the footman. As much as to say to Tom: ‘But if you
think she has anything to do with the proprietorship of this place you
had better abandon that idea.’
‘I wish to see her, if you please,’ said Tom.
The footman, being a lively young man, happened to have his attention
caught at that moment by the flight of a pigeon, in which he took so
warm an interest that his gaze was rivetted on the bird until it was
quite out of sight. He then invited Tom to come in, and showed him into
a parlour.
‘Hany neem?’ said the young man, pausing languidly at the door.
It was a good thought; because without providing the stranger, in case
he should happen to be of a warm temper, with a sufficient excuse for
knocking him down, it implied this young man’s estimate of his quality,
and relieved his breast of the oppressive burden of rating him in secret
as a nameless and obscure individual.
‘Say her brother, if you please,’ said Tom.
‘Mother?’ drawled the footman.
‘Brother,’ repeated Tom, slightly raising his voice. ‘And if you will
say, in the first instance, a gentleman, and then say her brother,
I shall be obliged to you, as she does not expect me or know I am in
London, and I do not wish to startle her.’
The young man’s interest in Tom’s observations had ceased long before
this time, but he kindly waited until now; when, shutting the door, he
withdrew.
‘Dear me!’ said Tom. ‘This is very disrespectful and uncivil behaviour.
I hope these are new servants here, and that Ruth is very differently
treated.’
His cogitations were interrupted by the sound of voices in the adjoining
room. They seemed to be engaged in high dispute, or in indignant
reprimand of some offender; and gathering strength occasionally, broke
out into a perfect whirlwind. It was in one of these gusts, as it
appeared to Tom, that the footman announced him; for an abrupt and
unnatural calm took place, and then a dead silence. He was standing
before the window, wondering what domestic quarrel might have caused
these sounds, and hoping Ruth had nothing to do with it, when the door
opened, and his sister ran into his arms.
‘Why, bless my soul!’ said Tom, looking at her with great pride, when
they had tenderly embraced each other, ‘how altered you are Ruth! I
should scarcely have known you, my love, if I had seen you anywhere
else, I declare! You are so improved,’ said Tom, with inexpressible
delight; ‘you are so womanly; you are so--positively, you know, you are
so handsome!’
‘If YOU think so Tom--’
‘Oh, but everybody must think so, you know,’ said Tom, gently smoothing
down her hair. ‘It’s matter of fact; not opinion. But what’s the
matter?’ said Tom, looking at her more intently, ‘how flushed you are!
and you have been crying.’
‘No, I have not, Tom.’
‘Nonsense,’ said her brother stoutly. ‘That’s a story. Don’t tell me! I
know better. What is it, dear? I’m not with Mr Pecksniff now. I am going
to try and settle myself in London; and if you are not happy here (as I
very much fear you are not, for I begin to think you have been deceiving
me with the kindest and most affectionate intention) you shall not
remain here.’
Oh! Tom’s blood was rising; mind that! Perhaps the Boar’s Head had
something to do with it, but certainly the footman had. So had the sight
of his pretty sister--a great deal to do with it. Tom could bear a good
deal himself, but he was proud of her, and pride is a sensitive thing.
He began to think, ‘there are more Pecksniffs than one, perhaps,’ and by
all the pins and needles that run up and down in angry veins, Tom was in
a most unusual tingle all at once!
‘We will talk about it, Tom,’ said Ruth, giving him another kiss to
pacify him. ‘I am afraid I cannot stay here.’
‘Cannot!’ replied Tom. ‘Why then, you shall not, my love. Heyday! You
are not an object of charity! Upon my word!’
Tom was stopped in these exclamations by the footman, who brought a
message from his master, importing that he wished to speak with him
before he went, and with Miss Pinch also.
‘Show the way,’ said Tom. ‘I’ll wait upon him at once.’
Accordingly they entered the adjoining room from which the noise of
altercation had proceeded; and there they found a middle-aged gentleman,