“There's Jinkins,” said the youngest gentleman, moodily. “Your favourite. He'll console you, and the gentlemen too, for the loss of twenty such as me. I'm not understood in this house. I never have been.”
“Don't run away with that opinion, sir!” cried Mrs Todgers, with a show of honest indignation. “Don't make such a charge as that against the establishment, I must beg of you. It is not so bad as that comes to, sir. Make any remark you please against the gentlemen, or against me; but don't say you're not understood in this house.”
“I'm not treated as if I was,” said the youngest gentleman.
“There you make a great mistake, sir,” returned Mrs Todgers, in the same strain. “As many of the gentlemen and I have often said, you are too sensitive. That's where it is. You are of too susceptible a nature; it's in your spirit.”
The young gentleman coughed.
“And as,” said Mrs Todgers, “as to Mr Jinkins, I must beg of you, if we ARE to part, to understand that I don't abet Mr Jinkins by any means. Far from it. I could wish that Mr Jinkins would take a lower tone in this establishment, and would not be the means of raising differences between me and gentlemen that I can much less bear to part with than I could with Mr Jinkins. Mr Jinkins is not such a boarder, sir,” added Mrs Todgers, “that all considerations of private feeling and respect give way before him. Quite the contrary, I assure you.”
The young gentleman was so much mollified by these and similar speeches on the part of Mrs Todgers, that he and that lady gradually changed positions; so that she became the injured party, and he was understood to be the injurer; but in a complimentary, not in an offensive sense; his cruel conduct being attributable to his exalted nature, and to that alone. So, in the end, the young gentleman withdrew his notice, and assured Mrs Todgers of his unalterable regard; and having done so, went back to business.
“Goodness me, Miss Pecksniffs!” cried that lady, as she came into the back room, and sat wearily down, with her basket on her knees, and her hands folded upon it, “what a trial of temper it is to keep a house like this! You must have heard most of what has just passed. Now did you ever hear the like?”
“Never!” said the two Miss Pecksniffs.
“Of all the ridiculous young fellows that ever I had to deal with,” resumed Mrs Todgers, “that is the most ridiculous and unreasonable. Mr Jinkins is hard upon him sometimes, but not half as hard as he deserves. To mention such a gentleman as Mr Jinkins in the same breath with HIM—you know it's too much! And yet he's as jealous of him, bless you, as if he was his equal.”
The young ladies were greatly entertained by Mrs Todgers's account, no less than with certain anecdotes illustrative of the youngest gentleman's character, which she went on to tell them. But Mr Pecksniff looked quite stern and angry; and when she had concluded, said in a solemn voice:
“Pray, Mrs Todgers, if I may inquire, what does that young gentleman contribute towards the support of these premises?”
“Why, sir, for what HE has, he pays about eighteen shillings a week!” said Mrs Todgers.
“Eighteen shillings a week!” repeated Mr Pecksniff.
“Taking one week with another; as near that as possible,” said Mrs Todgers.
Mr Pecksniff rose from his chair, folded his arms, looked at her, and shook his head.
“And do you mean to say, ma'am—is it possible, Mrs Todgers—that for such a miserable consideration as eighteen shillings a week, a female of your understanding can so far demean herself as to wear a double face, even for an instant?”
“I am forced to keep things on the square if I can, sir,” faltered Mrs Todgers. “I must preserve peace among them, and keep my connection together, if possible, Mr Pecksniff. The profit is very small.”
“The profit!” cried that gentleman, laying great stress upon the word. “The profit, Mrs Todgers! You amaze me!”
He was so severe, that Mrs Todgers shed tears.
“The profit!” repeated Mr pecksniff. “The profit of dissimulation! To worship the golden calf of Baal, for eighteen shillings a week!”
“Don't in your own goodness be too hard upon me, Mr Pecksniff,” cried Mrs Todgers, taking out her handkerchief.
“Oh Calf, Calf!” cried Mr Pecksniff mournfully. “Oh, Baal, Baal! oh my friend, Mrs Todgers! To barter away that precious jewel, selfesteem, and cringe to any mortal creature—for eighteen shillings a week!”
He was so subdued and overcome by the reflection, that he immediately took down his hat from its peg in the passage, and went out for a walk, to compose his feelings. Anybody passing him in the street might have known him for a good man at first sight; for his whole figure teemed with a consciousness of the moral homily he had read to Mrs Todgers.
Eighteen shillings a week! Just, most just, thy censure, upright Pecksniff! Had it been for the sake of a ribbon, star, or garter; sleeves of lawn, a great man's smile, a seat in parliament, a tap upon the shoulder from a courtly sword; a place, a party, or a thriving lie, or eighteen thousand pounds, or even eighteen hundred;—but to worship the golden calf for eighteen shillings a week! oh pitiful, pitiful!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WHEREIN A CERTAIN GENTLEMAN BECOMES PARTICULAR IN HIS ATTENTIONS TO A CERTAIN LADY; AND MORE COMING EVENTS THAN ONE, CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE
The family were within two or three days of their departure from Mrs Todgers's, and the commercial gentlemen were to a man despondent and not to be comforted, because of the approaching separation, when Bailey junior, at the jocund time of noon, presented himself before Miss Charity Pecksniff, then sitting with her sister in the banquet chamber, hemming six new pocket-handkerchiefs for Mr Jinkins; and having expressed a hope, preliminary and pious, that he might be blest, gave her in his pleasant way to understand that a visitor attended to pay his respects to her, and was at that moment waiting in the drawing-room. Perhaps this last announcement showed in a more striking point of view than many lengthened speeches could have done, the trustfulness and faith of Bailey's nature; since he had, in fact, last seen the visitor on the door-mat, where, after signifying to him that he would do well to go upstairs, he had left him to the guidance of his own sagacity. Hence it was at least an even chance that the visitor was then wandering on the roof of the house, or vainly seeking to extricate himself from the maze of bedrooms; Todgers's being precisely that kind of establishment in which an unpiloted stranger is pretty sure to find himself in some place where he least expects and least desires to be.
“A gentleman for me!” cried Charity, pausing in her work; “my gracious, Bailey!”
“Ah!” said Bailey. “It IS my gracious, an't it? Wouldn't I be gracious neither, not if I wos him!”
The remark was rendered somewhat obscure in itself, by reason (as the reader may have observed) of a redundancy of negatives; but accompanied by action expressive of a faithful couple walking armin-arm towards a parochial church, mutually exchanging looks of love, it clearly signified this youth's conviction that the caller's purpose was of an amorous tendency. Miss Charity affected to reprove so great a liberty; but she could not help smiling. He was a strange boy, to be sure. There was always some ground of probability and likelihood mingled with his absurd behaviour. That was the best of it!
“But I don't know any gentlemen, Bailey,” said Miss Pecksniff. “I think you must have made a mistake.”
Mr Bailey smiled at the extreme wildness of such a supposition, and regarded the young ladies with unimpaired affability.
“My dear Merry,” said Charity, “who CAN it be? Isn't it odd? I have a great mind not to go to him really. So very strange, you know!”
The younger sister plainly considered that this appeal had its origin in the pride of being called upon and asked for; and that it was intended as an assertion of superiority, and a retaliation upon her for having captured the commercial gentlemen. Therefore, she replied, with great affection and politeness, that it was, no doubt, very strange indeed; and that she was totally at a loss to conceive what the ri
diculous person unknown could mean by it.
“Quite impossible to divine!” said Charity, with some sharpness, “though still, at the same time, you needn't be angry, my dear.”
“Thank you,” retorted Merry, singing at her needle. “I am quite aware of that, my love.”
“I am afraid your head is turned, you silly thing,” said Cherry.
“Do you know, my dear,” said Merry, with engaging candour, “that I have been afraid of that, myself, all along! So much incense and nonsense, and all the rest of it, is enough to turn a stronger head than mine. What a relief it must be to you, my dear, to be so very comfortable in that respect, and not to be worried by those odious men! How do you do it, Cherry?”
This artless inquiry might have led to turbulent results, but for the strong emotions of delight evinced by Bailey junior, whose relish in the turn the conversation had lately taken was so acute, that it impelled and forced him to the instantaneous performance of a dancing step, extremely difficult in its nature, and only to be achieved in a moment of ecstasy, which is commonly called The Frog's Hornpipe. A manifestation so lively, brought to their immediate recollection the great virtuous precept, “Keep up appearances whatever you do,” in which they had been educated. They forbore at once, and jointly signified to Mr Bailey that if he should presume to practice that figure any more in their presence, they would instantly acquaint Mrs Todgers with the fact, and would demand his condign punishment, at the hands of that lady. The young gentleman having expressed the bitterness of his contrition by affecting to wipe away scalding tears with his apron, and afterwards feigning to wring a vast amount of water from that garment, held the door open while Miss Charity passed out; and so that damsel went in state upstairs to receive her mysterious adorer.
By some strange occurrence of favourable circumstances he had found out the drawing-room, and was sitting there alone.
“Ah, cousin!” he said. “Here I am, you see. You thought I was lost, I'll be bound. Well! how do you find yourself by this time?”
Miss Charity replied that she was quite well, and gave Mr Jonas Chuzzlewit her hand.
“That's right,” said Mr Jonas, “and you've got over the fatigues of the journey have you? I say. How's the other one?”
“My sister is very well, I believe,” returned the young lady. “I have not heard her complain of any indisposition, sir. Perhaps you would like to see her, and ask her yourself?”
“No, no cousin!” said Mr Jonas, sitting down beside her on the window-seat. “Don't be in a hurry. There's no occasion for that, you know. What a cruel girl you are!”
“It's impossible for YOU to know,” said Cherry, “whether I am or not.”
“Well, perhaps it is,” said Mr Jonas. “I say—Did you think I was lost? You haven't told me that.”
“I didn't think at all about it,” answered Cherry.
“Didn't you though?” said Jonas, pondering upon this strange reply. “Did the other one?”
“I am sure it's impossible for me to say what my sister may, or may not have thought on such a subject,” cried Cherry. “She never said anything to me about it, one way or other.”
“Didn't she laugh about it?” inquired Jonas.
“No. She didn't even laugh about it,” answered Charity.
“She's a terrible one to laugh, an't she?” said Jonas, lowering his voice.
“She is very lively,” said Cherry.
“Liveliness is a pleasant thing—when it don't lead to spending money. An't it?” asked Mr Jonas.
“Very much so, indeed,” said Cherry, with a demureness of manner that gave a very disinterested character to her assent.
“Such liveliness as yours I mean, you know,” observed Mr Jonas, as he nudged her with his elbow. “I should have come to see you before, but I didn't know where you was. How quick you hurried off, that morning!”
“I was amenable to my papa's directions,” said Miss Charity.
“I wish he had given me his direction,” returned her cousin, “and then I should have found you out before. Why, I shouldn't have found you even now, if I hadn't met him in the street this morning. What a sleek, sly chap he is! Just like a tomcat, an't he?”
“I must trouble you to have the goodness to speak more respectfully of my papa, Mr Jonas,” said Charity. “I can't allow such a tone as that, even in jest.”
“Ecod, you may say what you like of MY father, then, and so I give you leave,” said Jonas. “I think it's liquid aggravation that circulates through his veins, and not regular blood. How old should you think my father was, cousin?”
“Old, no doubt,” replied Miss Charity; “but a fine old gentleman.”
“A fine old gentleman!” repeated Jonas, giving the crown of his hat an angry knock. “Ah! It's time he was thinking of being drawn out a little finer too. Why, he's eighty!”
“Is he, indeed?” said the young lady.
“And ecod,” cried Jonas, “now he's gone so far without giving in, I don't see much to prevent his being ninety; no, nor even a hundred. Why, a man with any feeling ought to be ashamed of being eighty, let alone more. Where's his religion, I should like to know, when he goes flying in the face of the Bible like that? Threescore-andten's the mark, and no man with a conscience, and a proper sense of what's expected of him, has any business to live longer.”
Is any one surprised at Mr Jonas making such a reference to such a book for such a purpose? Does any one doubt the old saw, that the Devil (being a layman) quotes Scripture for his own ends? If he will take the trouble to look about him, he may find a greater number of confirmations of the fact in the occurrences of any single day, than the steam-gun can discharge balls in a minute.
“But there's enough of my father,” said Jonas; “it's of no use to go putting one's self out of the way by talking about HIM. I called to ask you to come and take a walk, cousin, and see some of the sights; and to come to our house afterwards, and have a bit of something. Pecksniff will most likely look in in the evening, he says, and bring you home. See, here's his writing; I made him put it down this morning when he told me he shouldn't be back before I came here; in case you wouldn't believe me. There's nothing like proof, is there? Ha, ha! I say—you'll bring the other one, you know!”
Miss Charity cast her eyes upon her father's autograph, which merely said—'Go, my children, with your cousin. Let there be union among us when it is possible;” and after enough of hesitation to impart a proper value to her consent, withdrew to prepare her sister and herself for the excursion. She soon returned, accompanied by Miss Mercy, who was by no means pleased to leave the brilliant triumphs of Todgers's for the society of Mr Jonas and his respected father.
“Aha!” cried Jonas. “There you are, are you?”
“Yes, fright,” said Mercy, “here I am; and I would much rather be anywhere else, I assure you.”
“You don't mean that,” cried Mr Jonas. “You can't, you know. It isn't possible.”
“You can have what opinion you like, fright,” retorted Mercy. “I am content to keep mine; and mine is that you are a very unpleasant, odious, disagreeable person.”Here she laughed heartily, and seemed to enjoy herself very much.
“Oh, you're a sharp gal!” said Mr Jonas. “She's a regular teaser, an't she, cousin?”
Miss Charity replied in effect, that she was unable to say what the habits and propensities of a regular teaser might be; and that even if she possessed such information, it would ill become her to admit the existence of any creature with such an unceremonious name in her family; far less in the person of a beloved sister; “whatever,” added Cherry with an angry glance, “whatever her real nature may be.”
“Well, my dear,” said Merry, “the only observation I have to make is, that if we don't go out at once, I shall certainly take my bonnet off again, and stay at home.”
This threat had the desired effect of preventing any farther altercation, for Mr Jonas immediately proposed an adjournment, and the same being carried unanimously,
they departed from the house straightway. On the doorstep, Mr Jonas gave an arm to each cousin; which act of gallantry being observed by Bailey junior, from the garret window, was by him saluted with a loud and violent fit of coughing, to which paroxysm he was still the victim when they turned the corner.
Mr Jonas inquired in the first instance if they were good walkers and being answered, “Yes,” submitted their pedestrian powers to a pretty severe test; for he showed them as many sights, in the way of bridges, churches, streets, outsides of theatres, and other free spectacles, in that one forenoon, as most people see in a twelvemonth. It was observable in this gentleman, that he had an insurmountable distaste to the insides of buildings, and that he was perfectly acquainted with the merits of all shows, in respect of which there was any charge for admission, which it seemed were every one detestable, and of the very lowest grade of merit. He was so thoroughly possessed with this opinion, that when Miss Charity happened to mention the circumstance of their having been twice or thrice to the theatre with Mr Jinkins and party, he inquired, as a matter of course, “where the orders came from?” and being told that Mr Jinkins and party paid, was beyond description entertained, observing that “they must be nice flats, certainly;” and often in the course of the walk, bursting out again into a perfect convulsion of laughter at the surpassing silliness of those gentlemen, and (doubtless) at his own superior wisdom.
When they had been out for some hours and were thoroughly fatigued, it being by that time twilight, Mr Jonas intimated that he would show them one of the best pieces of fun with which he was acquainted. This joke was of a practical kind, and its humour lay in taking a hackney-coach to the extreme limits of possibility for a shilling. Happily it brought them to the place where Mr Jonas dwelt, or the young ladies might have rather missed the point and cream of the jest.
Life And Adventures Of Martin Chuzzlewit Page 22
