The Pickwick Papers
afterwards to their dinner; and Mr. Weller, whom the magistrate, with
his peculiar sagacity, had discovered in half an hour to be one of the
finest fellows alive, was consigned to the care and guardianship of Mr.
Muzzle, who was specially enjoined to take him below, and make much of
him.
‘How de do, sir?’ said Mr. Muzzle, as he conducted Mr. Weller down the
kitchen stairs.
‘Why, no considerable change has taken place in the state of my system,
since I see you cocked up behind your governor’s chair in the parlour, a
little vile ago,’ replied Sam.
‘You will excuse my not taking more notice of you then,’ said Mr.
Muzzle. ‘You see, master hadn’t introduced us, then. Lord, how fond he
is of you, Mr. Weller, to be sure!’
‘Ah!’ said Sam, ‘what a pleasant chap he is!’
‘Ain’t he?’ replied Mr. Muzzle.
‘So much humour,’ said Sam.
‘And such a man to speak,’ said Mr. Muzzle. ‘How his ideas flow, don’t
they?’
‘Wonderful,’ replied Sam; ‘they comes a-pouring out, knocking each
other’s heads so fast, that they seems to stun one another; you hardly
know what he’s arter, do you?’
That’s the great merit of his style of speaking,’ rejoined Mr. Muzzle.
‘Take care of the last step, Mr. Weller. Would you like to wash your
hands, sir, before we join the ladies? Here’s a sink, with the water
laid on, Sir, and a clean jack towel behind the door.’
‘Ah! perhaps I may as well have a rinse,’ replied Mr. Weller, applying
plenty of yellow soap to the towel, and rubbing away till his face shone
again. ‘How many ladies are there?’
‘Only two in our kitchen,’ said Mr. Muzzle; ‘cook and ‘ouse-maid. We
keep a boy to do the dirty work, and a gal besides, but they dine in the
wash’us.’
‘Oh, they dines in the wash’us, do they?’ said Mr. Weller.
‘Yes,’ replied Mr. Muzzle, ‘we tried ‘em at our table when they first
come, but we couldn’t keep ‘em. The gal’s manners is dreadful vulgar;
and the boy breathes so very hard while he’s eating, that we found it
impossible to sit at table with him.’
‘Young grampus!’ said Mr. Weller.
‘Oh, dreadful,’ rejoined Mr. Muzzle; ‘but that is the worst of country
service, Mr. Weller; the juniors is always so very savage. This way,
sir, if you please, this way.’
Preceding Mr. Weller, with the utmost politeness, Mr. Muzzle conducted
him into the kitchen.
‘Mary,’ said Mr. Muzzle to the pretty servant-girl, ‘this is Mr. Weller;
a gentleman as master has sent down, to be made as comfortable as
possible.’
‘And your master’s a knowin’ hand, and has just sent me to the right
place,’ said Mr. Weller, with a glance of admiration at Mary. ‘If I wos
master o’ this here house, I should alvays find the materials for
comfort vere Mary wos.’
Lor, Mr. Weller!’ said Mary blushing.
‘Well, I never!’ ejaculated the cook.
‘Bless me, cook, I forgot you,’ said Mr. Muzzle. ‘Mr. Weller, let me
introduce you.’
‘How are you, ma’am?’ said Mr. Weller. ‘Wery glad to see you, indeed,
and hope our acquaintance may be a long ‘un, as the gen’l’m’n said to
the fi’ pun’ note.’
When this ceremony of introduction had been gone through, the cook and
Mary retired into the back kitchen to titter, for ten minutes; then
returning, all giggles and blushes, they sat down to dinner.
Mr. Weller’s easy manners and conversational powers had such
irresistible influence with his new friends, that before the dinner was
half over, they were on a footing of perfect intimacy, and in possession
of a full account of the delinquency of Job Trotter.
‘I never could a-bear that Job,’ said Mary.
‘No more you never ought to, my dear,’ replied Mr. Weller.
‘Why not?’ inquired Mary.
‘’Cos ugliness and svindlin’ never ought to be formiliar with elegance
and wirtew,’ replied Mr. Weller. ‘Ought they, Mr. Muzzle?’
‘Not by no means,’ replied that gentleman.
Here Mary laughed, and said the cook had made her; and the cook laughed,
and said she hadn’t.
‘I ha’n’t got a glass,’ said Mary.
‘Drink with me, my dear,’ said Mr. Weller. ‘Put your lips to this here
tumbler, and then I can kiss you by deputy.’
‘For shame, Mr. Weller!’ said Mary.
‘What’s a shame, my dear?’
‘Talkin’ in that way.’
‘Nonsense; it ain’t no harm. It’s natur; ain’t it, cook?’
‘Don’t ask me, imperence,’ replied the cook, in a high state of delight;
and hereupon the cook and Mary laughed again, till what between the
beer, and the cold meat, and the laughter combined, the latter young
lady was brought to the verge of choking--an alarming crisis from which
she was only recovered by sundry pats on the back, and other necessary
attentions, most delicately administered by Mr. Samuel Weller.
In the midst of all this jollity and conviviality, a loud ring was heard
at the garden gate, to which the young gentleman who took his meals in
the wash-house, immediately responded. Mr. Weller was in the height of
his attentions to the pretty house-maid; Mr. Muzzle was busy doing the
honours of the table; and the cook had just paused to laugh, in the very
act of raising a huge morsel to her lips; when the kitchen door opened,
and in walked Mr. Job Trotter.
We have said in walked Mr. Job Trotter, but the statement is not
distinguished by our usual scrupulous adherence to fact. The door opened
and Mr. Trotter appeared. He would have walked in, and was in the very
act of doing so, indeed, when catching sight of Mr. Weller, he
involuntarily shrank back a pace or two, and stood gazing on the
unexpected scene before him, perfectly motionless with amazement and
terror.
‘Here he is!’ said Sam, rising with great glee. ‘Why we were that wery
moment a-speaking o’ you. How are you? Where have you been? Come in.’
Laying his hand on the mulberry collar of the unresisting Job, Mr.
Weller dragged him into the kitchen; and, locking the door, handed the
key to Mr. Muzzle, who very coolly buttoned it up in a side pocket.
‘Well, here’s a game!’ cried Sam. ‘Only think o’ my master havin’ the
pleasure o’ meeting yourn upstairs, and me havin’ the joy o’ meetin’ you
down here. How are you gettin’ on, and how is the chandlery bis’ness
likely to do? Well, I am so glad to see you. How happy you look. It’s
quite a treat to see you; ain’t it, Mr. Muzzle?’
‘Quite,’ said Mr. Muzzle.
‘So cheerful he is!’ said Sam.
‘In such good spirits!’ said Muzzle.
‘And so glad to see us--that makes it so much more comfortable,’ said
Sam. ‘Sit down; sit down.’
Mr. Trotter suffered himself to be forced into a chair by the fireside.
He cast his small eyes, first on Mr. Weller, and then on Mr. Muzzle, but
said nothing.
‘Well, now,’ said Sam, ‘afore these here ladies, I should jest like to
ask you, as a sort of curiosity, whether you don’t consider yourself as
nice and well-behaved a young gen’l’m’n, as ever used a pink check
pocket-handkerchief, and the number four collection?’
‘And as was ever a-going to be married to a cook,’ said that lady
indignantly. ‘The willin!’
‘And leave off his evil ways, and set up in the chandlery line
arterwards,’ said the housemaid.
‘Now, I’ll tell you what it is, young man,’ said Mr. Muzzle solemnly,
enraged at the last two allusions, ‘this here lady (pointing to the
cook) keeps company with me; and when you presume, Sir, to talk of
keeping chandlers’ shops with her, you injure me in one of the most
delicatest points in which one man can injure another. Do you understand
that, Sir?’
Here Mr. Muzzle, who had a great notion of his eloquence, in which he
imitated his master, paused for a reply.
But Mr. Trotter made no reply. So Mr. Muzzle proceeded in a solemn
manner--
‘It’s very probable, sir, that you won’t be wanted upstairs for several
minutes, Sir, because _my_ master is at this moment particularly engaged
in settling the hash of _your _master, Sir; and therefore you’ll have
leisure, Sir, for a little private talk with me, Sir. Do you understand
that, Sir?’
Mr. Muzzle again paused for a reply; and again Mr. Trotter disappointed
him.
‘Well, then,’ said Mr. Muzzle, ‘I’m very sorry to have to explain myself
before ladies, but the urgency of the case will be my excuse. The back
kitchen’s empty, Sir. If you will step in there, Sir, Mr. Weller will
see fair, and we can have mutual satisfaction till the bell rings.
Follow me, Sir!’
As Mr. Muzzle uttered these words, he took a step or two towards the
door; and, by way of saving time, began to pull off his coat as he
walked along.
Now, the cook no sooner heard the concluding words of this desperate
challenge, and saw Mr. Muzzle about to put it into execution, than she
uttered a loud and piercing shriek; and rushing on Mr. Job Trotter, who
rose from his chair on the instant, tore and buffeted his large flat
face, with an energy peculiar to excited females, and twining her hands
in his long black hair, tore therefrom about enough to make five or six
dozen of the very largest-sized mourning-rings. Having accomplished this
feat with all the ardour which her devoted love for Mr. Muzzle inspired,
she staggered back; and being a lady of very excitable and delicate
feelings, she instantly fell under the dresser, and fainted away.
At this moment, the bell rang.
‘That’s for you, Job Trotter,’ said Sam; and before Mr. Trotter could
offer remonstrance or reply--even before he had time to stanch the
wounds inflicted by the insensible lady--Sam seized one arm and Mr.
Muzzle the other, and one pulling before, and the other pushing behind,
they conveyed him upstairs, and into the parlour.
It was an impressive tableau. Alfred Jingle, Esquire, alias Captain
Fitz-Marshall, was standing near the door with his hat in his hand, and
a smile on his face, wholly unmoved by his very unpleasant situation.
Confronting him, stood Mr. Pickwick, who had evidently been inculcating
some high moral lesson; for his left hand was beneath his coat tail, and
his right extended in air, as was his wont when delivering himself of an
impressive address. At a little distance, stood Mr. Tupman with
indignant countenance, carefully held back by his two younger friends;
at the farther end of the room were Mr. Nupkins, Mrs. Nupkins, and Miss
Nupkins, gloomily grand and savagely vexed.
‘What prevents me,’ said Mr. Nupkins, with magisterial dignity, as Job
was brought in--‘what prevents me from detaining these men as rogues and
impostors? It is a foolish mercy. What prevents me?’
‘Pride, old fellow, pride,’ replied Jingle, quite at his ease. ‘Wouldn’t
do--no go--caught a captain, eh?--ha! ha! very good--husband for
daughter--biter bit--make it public--not for worlds--look stupid--very!’
‘Wretch,’ said Mr. Nupkins, ‘we scorn your base insinuations.’
‘I always hated him,’ added Henrietta.
‘Oh, of course,’ said Jingle. ‘Tall young man--old lover--Sidney
Porkenham--rich--fine fellow--not so rich as captain, though, eh?--turn
him away--off with him--anything for captain--nothing like captain
anywhere--all the girls--raving mad--eh, Job, eh?’
Here Mr. Jingle laughed very heartily; and Job, rubbing his hands with
delight, uttered the first sound he had given vent to since he entered
the house--a low, noiseless chuckle, which seemed to intimate that he
enjoyed his laugh too much, to let any of it escape in sound.
‘Mr. Nupkins,’ said the elder lady,’ this is not a fit conversation for
the servants to overhear. Let these wretches be removed.’
‘Certainly, my dear,’ Said Mr. Nupkins. ‘Muzzle!’
‘Your Worship.’
‘Open the front door.’
‘Yes, your Worship.’
‘Leave the house!’ said Mr. Nupkins, waving his hand emphatically.
Jingle smiled, and moved towards the door.
‘Stay!’ said Mr. Pickwick. Jingle stopped.
‘I might,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘have taken a much greater revenge for the
treatment I have experienced at your hands, and that of your
hypocritical friend there.’