The Old Curiosity Shop
cannot penetrate. Every effort I have made to penetrate it, has only
served to render it darker and more obscure; and I am afraid to stir
openly in the matter, lest those whom I anxiously pursue, should fly
still farther from me. I assure you that if you could give me any
assistance, you would not be sorry to do so, if you knew how greatly I
stand in need of it, and what a load it would relieve me from.’
There was a simplicity in this confidence which occasioned it to find a
quick response in the breast of the good-natured Notary, who replied,
in the same spirit, that the stranger had not mistaken his desire, and
that if he could be of service to him, he would, most readily.
Kit was then put under examination and closely questioned by the
unknown gentleman, touching his old master and the child, their lonely
way of life, their retired habits, and strict seclusion. The nightly
absence of the old man, the solitary existence of the child at those
times, his illness and recovery, Quilp’s possession of the house, and
their sudden disappearance, were all the subjects of much questioning
and answer. Finally, Kit informed the gentleman that the premises were
now to let, and that a board upon the door referred all inquirers to Mr
Sampson Brass, Solicitor, of Bevis Marks, from whom he might perhaps
learn some further particulars.
‘Not by inquiry,’ said the gentleman shaking his head. ‘I live there.’
‘Live at Brass’s the attorney’s!’ cried Mr Witherden in some surprise:
having professional knowledge of the gentleman in question.
‘Aye,’ was the reply. ‘I entered on his lodgings t’other day, chiefly
because I had seen this very board. It matters little to me where I
live, and I had a desperate hope that some intelligence might be cast
in my way there, which would not reach me elsewhere. Yes, I live at
Brass’s--more shame for me, I suppose?’
‘That’s a mere matter of opinion,’ said the Notary, shrugging his
shoulders. ‘He is looked upon as rather a doubtful character.’
‘Doubtful?’ echoed the other. ‘I am glad to hear there’s any doubt
about it. I supposed that had been thoroughly settled, long ago. But
will you let me speak a word or two with you in private?’
Mr Witherden consenting, they walked into that gentleman’s private
closet, and remained there, in close conversation, for some quarter of
an hour, when they returned into the outer office. The stranger had
left his hat in Mr Witherden’s room, and seemed to have established
himself in this short interval on quite a friendly footing.
‘I’ll not detain you any longer now,’ he said, putting a crown into
Kit’s hand, and looking towards the Notary. ‘You shall hear from me
again. Not a word of this, you know, except to your master and
mistress.’
‘Mother, sir, would be glad to know--’ said Kit, faltering.
‘Glad to know what?’
‘Anything--so that it was no harm--about Miss Nell.’
‘Would she? Well then, you may tell her if she can keep a secret. But
mind, not a word of this to anybody else. Don’t forget that. Be
particular.’
‘I’ll take care, sir,’ said Kit. ‘Thankee, sir, and good morning.’
Now, it happened that the gentleman, in his anxiety to impress upon Kit
that he was not to tell anybody what had passed between them, followed
him out to the door to repeat his caution, and it further happened that
at that moment the eyes of Mr Richard Swiveller were turned in that
direction, and beheld his mysterious friend and Kit together.
It was quite an accident, and the way in which it came about was this.
Mr Chuckster, being a gentleman of a cultivated taste and refined
spirit, was one of that Lodge of Glorious Apollos whereof Mr Swiveller
was Perpetual Grand. Mr Swiveller, passing through the street in the
execution of some Brazen errand, and beholding one of his Glorious
Brotherhood intently gazing on a pony, crossed over to give him that
fraternal greeting with which Perpetual Grands are, by the very
constitution of their office, bound to cheer and encourage their
disciples. He had scarcely bestowed upon him his blessing, and
followed it with a general remark touching the present state and
prospects of the weather, when, lifting up his eyes, he beheld the
single gentleman of Bevis Marks in earnest conversation with
Christopher Nubbles.
‘Hallo!’ said Dick, ‘who is that?’
‘He called to see my Governor this morning,’ replied Mr Chuckster;
‘beyond that, I don’t know him from Adam.’
‘At least you know his name?’ said Dick.
To which Mr Chuckster replied, with an elevation of speech becoming a
Glorious Apollo, that he was ‘everlastingly blessed’ if he did.
‘All I know, my dear feller,’ said Mr Chuckster, running his fingers
through his hair, ‘is, that he is the cause of my having stood here
twenty minutes, for which I hate him with a mortal and undying hatred,
and would pursue him to the confines of eternity if I could afford the
time.’
While they were thus discoursing, the subject of their conversation
(who had not appeared to recognise Mr Richard Swiveller) re-entered the
house, and Kit came down the steps and joined them; to whom Mr
Swiveller again propounded his inquiry with no better success.
‘He is a very nice gentleman, Sir,’ said Kit, ‘and that’s all I know
about him.’
Mr Chuckster waxed wroth at this answer, and without applying the
remark to any particular case, mentioned, as a general truth, that it
was expedient to break the heads of Snobs, and to tweak their noses.
Without expressing his concurrence in this sentiment, Mr Swiveller
after a few moments of abstraction inquired which way Kit was driving,
and, being informed, declared it was his way, and that he would
trespass on him for a lift. Kit would gladly have declined the
proffered honour, but as Mr Swiveller was already established in the
seat beside him, he had no means of doing so, otherwise than by a
forcible ejectment, and therefore, drove briskly off--so briskly
indeed, as to cut short the leave-taking between Mr Chuckster and his
Grand Master, and to occasion the former gentleman some inconvenience
from having his corns squeezed by the impatient pony.
As Whisker was tired of standing, and Mr Swiveller was kind enough to
stimulate him by shrill whistles, and various sporting cries, they
rattled off at too sharp a pace to admit of much conversation:
especially as the pony, incensed by Mr Swiveller’s admonitions, took a
particular fancy for the lamp-posts and cart-wheels, and evinced a
strong desire to run on the pavement and rasp himself against the brick
walls. It was not, therefore, until they had arrived at the stable,
and the chaise had been extricated from a very small doorway, into
which the pony dragged it under the impression that he could take it
along with him into his usual stall, that Mr Swiveller found time to
talk.
‘It’s hard work,’ said Richard. ‘What do you say to some beer?’
Kit at first declined, but presently consented, and they adjourned to
the neighbouring bar together.
‘We’ll drink our friend what’s-his-name,’ said Dick, holding up the
bright frothy pot; ‘--that was talking to you this morning, you know--I
know him--a good fellow, but eccentric--very--here’s what’s-his-name!’
Kit pledged him.
‘He lives in my house,’ said Dick; ‘at least in the house occupied by
the firm in which I’m a sort of a--of a managing partner--a difficult
fellow to get anything out of, but we like him--we like him.’
‘I must be going, sir, if you please,’ said Kit, moving away.
‘Don’t be in a hurry, Christopher,’ replied his patron, ‘we’ll drink
your mother.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘An excellent woman that mother of yours, Christopher,’ said Mr
Swiveller. ‘Who ran to catch me when I fell, and kissed the place to
make it well? My mother. A charming woman. He’s a liberal sort of
fellow. We must get him to do something for your mother. Does he know
her, Christopher?’
Kit shook his head, and glancing slyly at his questioner, thanked him,
and made off before he could say another word.
‘Humph!’ said Mr Swiveller pondering, ‘this is queer. Nothing but
mysteries in connection with Brass’s house. I’ll keep my own counsel,
however. Everybody and anybody has been in my confidence as yet, but
now I think I’ll set up in business for myself. Queer--very queer!’
After pondering deeply and with a face of exceeding wisdom for some
time, Mr Swiveller drank some more of the beer, and summoning a small
boy who had been watching his proceedings, poured forth the few
remaining drops as a libation on the gravel, and bade him carry the
empty vessel to the bar with his compliments, and above all things to
lead a sober and temperate life, and abstain from all intoxicating and
exciting liquors. Having given him this piece of moral advice for his
trouble (which, as he wisely observed, was far better than half-pence)
the Perpetual Grand Master of the Glorious Apollos thrust his hands
into his pockets and sauntered away: still pondering as he went.
CHAPTER 39
All that day, though he waited for Mr Abel until evening, Kit kept
clear of his mother’s house, determined not to anticipate the pleasures
of the morrow, but to let them come in their full rush of delight; for
to-morrow was the great and long looked-for epoch in his
life--to-morrow was the end of his first quarter--the day of receiving,
for the first time, one fourth part of his annual income of Six Pounds
in one vast sum of Thirty Shillings--to-morrow was to be a half-holiday
devoted to a whirl of entertainments, and little Jacob was to know what
oysters meant, and to see a play.
All manner of incidents combined in favour of the occasion: not only
had Mr and Mrs Garland forewarned him that they intended to make no
deduction for his outfit from the great amount, but to pay it him
unbroken in all its gigantic grandeur; not only had the unknown
gentleman increased the stock by the sum of five shillings, which was a
perfect god-send and in itself a fortune; not only had these things
come to pass which nobody could have calculated upon, or in their
wildest dreams have hoped; but it was Barbara’s quarter too--Barbara’s
quarter, that very day--and Barbara had a half-holiday as well as Kit,
and Barbara’s mother was going to make one of the party, and to take
tea with Kit’s mother, and cultivate her acquaintance.
To be sure Kit looked out of his window very early that morning to see
which way the clouds were flying, and to be sure Barbara would have
been at hers too, if she had not sat up so late over-night, starching
and ironing small pieces of muslin, and crimping them into frills, and
sewing them on to other pieces to form magnificent wholes for next
day’s wear. But they were both up very early for all that, and had
small appetites for breakfast and less for dinner, and were in a state
of great excitement when Barbara’s mother came in, with astonishing
accounts of the fineness of the weather out of doors (but with a very
large umbrella notwithstanding, for people like Barbara’s mother seldom
make holiday without one), and when the bell rang for them to go up
stairs and receive their quarter’s money in gold and silver.
Well, wasn’t Mr Garland kind when he said ‘Christopher, here’s your
money, and you have earned it well;’ and wasn’t Mrs Garland kind when
she said ‘Barbara, here’s yours, and I’m much pleased with you;’ and
didn’t Kit sign his name bold to his receipt, and didn’t Barbara sign
her name all a trembling to hers; and wasn’t it beautiful to see how
Mrs Garland poured out Barbara’s mother a glass of wine; and didn’t
Barbara’s mother speak up when she said ‘Here’s blessing you, ma’am, as
a good lady, and you, sir, as a good gentleman, and Barbara, my love to
you, and here’s towards you, Mr Christopher;’ and wasn’t she as long