The Old Curiosity Shop

by Dickens, Charles

  by, no, no. It wouldn't do, mother, it wouldn't do at all. Ha ha

  ha!'

  Kit laughing so heartily, with his swoln and bruised face looking

  out of the towel, made little Jacob laugh, and then his mother

  laughed. and then the baby crowed and kicked with great glee, and

  then they all laughed in concert: partly because of Kit's triumph,

  and partly because they were very fond of each other. When this fit

  was over, Kit exhibited the bird to both children, as a great and

  precious rarity--it was only a poor linnet--and looking about the

  wall for an old nail, made a scaffolding of a chair and table and

  twisted it out with great exultation.

  'Let me see,' said the boy, 'I think I'll hang him in the winder,

  because it's more light and cheerful, and he can see the sky there,

  if he looks up very much. He's such a one to sing, I can tell you!'

  So, the scaffolding was made again, and Kit, climbing up with the

  poker for a hammer, knocked in the nail and hung up the cage, to

  the immeasurable delight of the whole family. When it had been

  adjusted and straightened a great many times, and he had walked

  backwards into the fire-place in his admiration of it, the

  arrangement was pronounced to be perfect.

  'And now, mother,' said the boy, 'before I rest any more, I'll go

  out and see if I can find a horse to hold, and then I can buy some

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  birdseed, and a bit of something nice for you, into the bargain.'

  CHAPTER 14

  As it was very easy for Kit to persuade himself that the old house

  was in his way, his way being anywhere, he tried to look upon his

  passing it once more as a matter of imperative and disagreeable

  necessity, quite apart from any desire of his own, to which he

  could not choose but yield. It is not uncommon for people who are

  much better fed and taught than Christopher Nubbles had ever been,

  to make duties of their inclinations in matters of more doubtful

  propriety, and to take great credit for the self-denial with which

  they gratify themselves.

  There was no need of any caution this time, and no fear of being

  detained by having to play out a return match with Daniel Quilp's

  boy. The place was entirely deserted, and looked as dusty and dingy

  as if it had been so for months. A rusty padlock was fastened on

  the door, ends of discoloured blinds and curtains flapped drearily

  against the half-opened upper windows, and the crooked holes cut in

  the closed shutters below, were black with the darkness of the

  inside. Some of the glass in the window he had so often watched,

  had been broken in the rough hurry of the morning, and that room

  looked more deserted and dull than any. A group of idle urchins had

  taken possession of the door-steps; some were plying the knocker

  and listening with delighted dread to the hollow sounds it spread

  through the dismantled house; others were clustered about the

  keyhole, watching half in jest and half in earnest for 'the ghost,'

  which an hour's gloom, added to the mystery that hung about the

  late inhabitants, had already raised. Standing all alone in the

  midst of the business and bustle of the street, the house looked a

  picture of cold desolation; and Kit, who remembered the cheerful

  fire that used to burn there on a winter's night and the no less

  cheerful laugh that made the small room ring, turned quite

  mournfully away.

  It must be especially observed in justice to poor Kit that he was

  by no means of a sentimental turn, and perhaps had never heard that

  adjective in all his life. He was only a soft-hearted grateful

  fellow, and had nothing genteel or polite about him; consequently,

  instead of going home again, in his grief, to kick the children and

  abuse his mother (for, when your finely strung people are out of

  sorts, they must have everybody else unhappy likewise), he turned

  his thoughts to the vulgar expedient of making them more

  comfortable if he could.

  Bless us, what a number of gentlemen on horseback there were riding

  up and down, and how few of them wanted their horses held! A good

  city speculator or a parliamentary commissioner could have told to

  a fraction, from the crowds that were cantering about, what sum of

  money was realised in London, in the course of a year, by holding

  horses alone. And undoubtedly it would have been a very large one,

  if only a twentieth part of the gentlemen without grooms had had

  occasion to alight; but they had not; and it is often an

  ill-natured circumstance like this, which spoils the most ingenious

  estimate in the world.

  Kit walked about, now with quick steps and now with slow; now

  lingering as some rider slackened his horse's pace and looked about

  him; and now darting at full speed up a bye-street as he caught a

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  glimpse of some distant horseman going lazily up the shady side of

  the road, and promising to stop, at every door. But on they all

  went, one after another, and there was not a penny stirring. 'I

  wonder,' thought the boy, 'if one of these gentlemen knew there was

  nothing in the cupboard at home, whether he'd stop on purpose, and

  make believe that he wanted to call somewhere, that I might earn a

  trifle?'

  He was quite tired out with pacing the streets, to say nothing of

  repeated disappointments, and was sitting down upon a step to rest,

  when there approached towards him a little clattering jingling

  four-wheeled chaise' drawn by a little obstinate-looking

  rough-coated pony, and driven by a little fat placid-faced old

  gentleman. Beside the little old gentleman sat a little old lady,

  plump and placid like himself, and the pony was coming along at his

  own pace and doing exactly as he pleased with the whole concern. If

  the old gentleman remonstrated by shaking the reins, the pony

  replied by shaking his head. It was plain that the utmost the pony

  would consent to do, was to go in his own way up any street that

  the old gentleman particularly wished to traverse, but that it was

  an understanding between them that he must do this after his own

  fashion or not at all.

  As they passed where he sat, Kit looked so wistfully at the little

  turn-out, that the old gentleman looked at him. Kit rising and

  putting his hand to his hat, the old gentleman intimated to the

  pony that he wished to stop, to which proposal the pony (who seldom

  objected to that part of his duty) graciously acceded.

  'I beg your pardon, sir,' said Kit. 'I'm sorry you stopped, sir. I

  only meant did you want your horse minded.'

  'I'm going to get down in the next street,' returned the old

  gentleman. 'If you like to come on after us, you may have the job.'

  Kit thanked him, and joyfully obeyed. The pony ran off at a sharp

  angle to inspect a lamp-post on the opposite side of the way, and

  then went off at a tangent to another lamp-post on the other side.

  Having satisfied himself that they were of the same pattern and


  materials, he came to a stop apparently absorbed in meditation.

  'Will you go on, sir,' said the old gentleman, gravely, 'or are we

  to wait here for you till it's too late for our appointment?'

  The pony remained immoveable.

  'Oh you naughty Whisker,' said the old lady. 'Fie upon you! I'm

  ashamed of such conduct.'

  The pony appeared to be touched by this appeal to his feelings, for

  he trotted on directly, though in a sulky manner, and stopped no

  more until he came to a door whereon was a brass plate with the

  words 'Witherden--Notary.' Here the old gentleman got out and

  helped out the old lady, and then took from under the seat a

  nosegay resembling in shape and dimensions a full-sized warming-pan

  with the handle cut short off. This, the old lady carried into the

  house with a staid and stately air, and the old gentleman (who had

  a club-foot) followed close upon her.

  They went, as it was easy to tell from the sound of their voices,

  into the front parlour, which seemed to be a kind of office. The

  day being very warm and the street a quiet one, the windows were

  wide open; and it was easy to hear through the Venetian blinds all

  that passed inside.

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  At first there was a great shaking of hands and shuffling of feet,

  succeeded by the presentation of the nosegay; for a voice, supposed

  by the listener to be that of Mr Witherden the Notary, was heard to

  exclaim a great many times, 'oh, delicious!' 'oh, fragrant,

  indeed!' and a nose, also supposed to be the property of that

  gentleman, was heard to inhale the scent with a snuffle of

  exceeding pleasure.

  'I brought it in honour of the occasion, Sir,' said the old lady.

  'Ah! an occasion indeed, ma'am, an occasion which does honour to

  me, ma'am, honour to me,' rejoined Mr Witherden, the notary. 'I

  have had many a gentleman articled to me, ma'am, many a one. Some

  of them are now rolling in riches, unmindful of their old companion

  and friend, ma'am, others are in the habit of calling upon me to

  this day and saying, "Mr Witherden, some of the pleasantest hours

  I ever spent in my life were spent in this office--were spent,

  Sir, upon this very stool"; but there was never one among the

  number, ma'am, attached as I have been to many of them, of whom I

  augured such bright things as I do of your only son.'

  'Oh dear!' said the old lady. 'How happy you do make us when you

  tell us that, to be sure!'

  'I tell you, ma'am,' said Mr Witherden, 'what I think as an honest

  man, which, as the poet observes, is the noblest work of God. I

  agree with the poet in every particular, ma'am. The mountainous

  Alps on the one hand, or a humming-bird on the other, is nothing,

  in point of workmanship, to an honest man--or woman--or woman.'

  'Anything that Mr Witherden can say of me,' observed a small quiet

  voice, 'I can say, with interest, of him, I am sure.'

  'It's a happy circumstance, a truly happy circumstance,' said the

  Notary, 'to happen too upon his eight-and-twentieth birthday, and

  I hope I know how to appreciate it. I trust, Mr Garland, my dear

  Sir, that we may mutually congratulate each other upon this

  auspicious occasion.'

  To this the old gentleman replied that he felt assured they might.

  There appeared to be another shaking of hands in consequence, and

  when it was over, the old gentleman said that, though he said it

  who should not, he believed no son had ever been a greater comfort

  to his parents than Abel Garland had been to his.

  'Marrying as his mother and I did, late in life, sir, after waiting

  for a great many years, until we were well enough off--coming

  together when we were no longer young, and then being blessed with

  one child who has always been dutiful and affectionate--why, it's

  a source of great happiness to us both, sir.'

  'Of course it is, I have no doubt of it,' returned the Notary in a

  sympathising voice. 'It's the contemplation of this sort of thing,

  that makes me deplore my fate in being a bachelor. There was a

  young lady once, sir, the daughter of an outfitting warehouse of

  the first respectability--but that's a weakness. Chuckster, bring

  in Mr Abel's articles.'

  'You see, Mr Witherden,' said the old lady, 'that Abel has not been

  brought up like the run of young men. He has always had a pleasure

  in our society, and always been with us. Abel has never been absent

  from us, for a day; has he, my dear?'

  'Never, my dear,' returned the old gentleman, 'except when he went

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  to Margate one Saturday with Mr Tomkinley that had been a teacher

  at that school he went to, and came back upon the Monday; but he

  was very ill after that, you remember, my dear; it was quite a

  dissipation.'

  'He was not used to it, you know,' said the old lady, 'and he

  couldn't bear it, that's the truth. Besides he had no comfort in

  being there without us, and had nobody to talk to or enjoy himself

  with.'

  'That was it, you know,' interposed the same small quiet voice that

  had spoken once before. 'I was quite abroad, mother, quite

  desolate, and to think that the sea was between us--oh, I never

  shall forget what I felt when I first thought that the sea was

  between us!'

  'Very natural under the circumstances,' observed the Notary. 'Mr

  Abel's feelings did credit to his nature, and credit to your

  nature, ma'am, and his father's nature, and human nature. I trace

  the same current now, flowing through all his quiet and unobtrusive

  proceedings.---I am about to sign my name, you observe, at the foot

  of the articles which Mr Chuckster will witness; and placing my

  finger upon this blue wafer with the vandyked corners, I am

  constrained to remark in a distinct tone of voice--don't be

  alarmed, ma'am, it is merely a form of law--that I deliver this,

  as my act and deed. Mr Abel will place his name against the other

  wafer, repeating the same cabalistic words, and the business is

  over. Ha ha ha! You see how easily these things are done!'

  There was a short silence, apparently, while Mr Abel went through

  the prescribed form, and then the shaking of hands and shuffling of

  feet were renewed, and shortly afterwards there was a clinking of

  wine-glasses and a great talkativeness on the part of everybody. In

  about a quarter of an hour Mr Chuckster (with a pen behind his ear

  and his face inflamed with wine) appeared at the door, and

  condescending to address Kit by the jocose appellation of 'Young

  Snob,' informed him that the visitors were coming out.

  Out they came forthwith; Mr Witherden, who was short, chubby,

  fresh-coloured, brisk, and pompous, leading the old lady with

  extreme politeness, and the father and son following them, arm in

  arm. Mr Abel, who had a quaint old-fashioned air about him, looked

  nearly of the same age as his father, and bore a wonderful

  resemblance to him in face and figure, though wanting something
of

  his full, round, cheerfulness, and substituting in its place a

  timid reserve. In all other respects, in the neatness of the dress,

  and even in the club-foot, he and the old gentleman were precisely

  alike.

  Having seen the old lady safely in her seat, and assisted in the

  arrangement of her cloak and a small basket which formed an

  indispensable portion of her equipage, Mr Abel got into a little

  box behind which had evidently been made for his express

  accommodation, and smiled at everybody present by turns, beginning

  with his mother and ending with the pony. There was then a great

  to-do to make the pony hold up his head that the bearing-rein might

  be fastened; at last even this was effected; and the old gentleman,

  taking his seat and the reins, put his hand in his pocket to find

  a sixpence for Kit.

  He had no sixpence, neither had the old lady, nor Mr Abel, nor the

  Notary, nor Mr Chuckster. The old gentleman thought a shilling too

  much, but there was no shop in the street to get change at, so he

  gave it to the boy.

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  'There,' he said jokingly, 'I'm coming here again next Monday at

  the same time, and mind you're here, my lad, to work it out.'

  'Thank you, Sir,' said Kit. 'I'll be sure to be here.'

  He was quite serious, but they all laughed heartily at his saying

  so, especially Mr Chuckster, who roared outright and appeared to

  relish the joke amazingly. As the pony, with a presentiment that he

  was going home, or a determination that he would not go anywhere

  else (which was the same thing) trotted away pretty nimbly, Kit had

  no time to justify himself, and went his way also. Having expended

  his treasure in such purchases as he knew would be most acceptable

  at home, not forgetting some seed for the wonderful bird, he

  hastened back as fast as he could, so elated with his success and

  great good fortune, that he more than half expected Nell and the

  old man would have arrived before him.

  CHAPTER 15

  Often, while they were yet pacing the silent streets of the town on

  the morning of their departure, the child trembled with a mingled

  sensation of hope and fear as in some far-off figure imperfectly

  seen in the clear distance, her fancy traced a likeness to honest

  Kit. But although she would gladly have given him her hand and