company arrived. Her thoughts were not idle while she was thus
employed; when she returned and was seated beside the old man in
one corner of the tent, tying her flowers together, while the two
men lay dozing in another corner, she plucked him by the sleeve,
and slightly glancing towards them, said, in a low voice--
'Grandfather, don't look at those I talk of, and don't seem as if
I spoke of anything but what I am about. What was that you told me
before we left the old house? That if they knew what we were going
to do, they would say that you were mad, and part us?'
The old man turned to her with an aspect of wild terror; but she
checked him by a look, and bidding him hold some flowers while she
tied them up, and so bringing her lips closer to his ear, said--
'I know that was what you told me. You needn't speak, dear. I
recollect it very well. It was not likely that I should forget it.
Grandfather, these men suspect that we have secretly left our
friends, and mean to carry us before some gentleman and have us
taken care of and sent back. If you let your hand tremble so, we
can never get away from them, but if you're only quiet now, we
shall do so, easily.'
'How?' muttered the old man. 'Dear Nelly, how? They will shut me up
in a stone room, dark and cold, and chain me up to the wall, Nell--
flog me with whips, and never let me see thee more!'
'You're trembling again,' said the child. 'Keep close to me all
day. Never mind them, don't look at them, but me. I shall find a
time when we can steal away. When I do, mind you come with me, and
do not stop or speak a word. Hush! That's all.'
'Halloa! what are you up to, my dear?' said Mr Codlin, raising his
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head, and yawning. Then observing that his companion was fast
asleep, he added in an earnest whisper, 'Codlin's the friend,
remember--not Short.'
'Making some nosegays,' the child replied; 'I am going to try and
sell some, these three days of the races. Will you have one--as a
present I mean?'
Mr Codlin would have risen to receive it, but the child hurried
towards him and placed it in his hand. He stuck it in his
buttonhole with an air of ineffable complacency for a misanthrope,
and leering exultingly at the unconscious Short, muttered, as he
laid himself down again, 'Tom Codlin's the friend, by G--!'
As the morning wore on, the tents assumed a gayer and more
brilliant appearance, and long lines of carriages came rolling
softly on the turf. Men who had lounged about all night in
smock-frocks and leather leggings, came out in silken vests and
hats and plumes, as jugglers or mountebanks; or in gorgeous
liveries as soft-spoken servants at gambling booths; or in sturdy
yeoman dress as decoys at unlawful games. Black-eyed gipsy girls,
hooded in showy handkerchiefs, sallied forth to tell fortunes, and
pale slender women with consumptive faces lingered upon the
footsteps of ventriloquists and conjurors, and counted the
sixpences with anxious eyes long before they were gained. As many
of the children as could be kept within bounds, were stowed away,
with all the other signs of dirt and poverty, among the donkeys,
carts, and horses; and as many as could not be thus disposed of ran
in and out in all intricate spots, crept between people's legs and
carriage wheels, and came forth unharmed from under horses' hoofs.
The dancing-dogs, the stilts, the little lady and the tall man, and
all the other attractions, with organs out of number and bands
innumerable, emerged from the holes and corners in which they had
passed the night, and flourished boldly in the sun.
Along the uncleared course, Short led his party, sounding the
brazen trumpet and revelling in the voice of Punch; and at his
heels went Thomas Codlin, bearing the show as usual, and keeping
his eye on Nelly and her grandfather, as they rather lingered in
the rear. The child bore upon her arm the little basket with her
flowers, and sometimes stopped, with timid and modest looks, to
offer them at some gay carriage; but alas! there were many bolder
beggars there, gipsies who promised husbands, and other adepts in
their trade, and although some ladies smiled gently as they shook
their heads, and others cried to the gentlemen beside them 'See,
what a pretty face!' they let the pretty face pass on, and never
thought that it looked tired or hungry.
There was but one lady who seemed to understand the child, and she
was one who sat alone in a handsome carriage, while two young men
in dashing clothes, who had just dismounted from it, talked and
laughed loudly at a little distance, appearing to forget her,
quite. There were many ladies all around, but they turned their
backs, or looked another way, or at the two young men (not
unfavourably at them), and left her to herself. She motioned away
a gipsy-woman urgent to tell her fortune, saying that it was told
already and had been for some years, but called the child towards
her, and taking her flowers put money into her trembling hand, and
bade her go home and keep at home for God's sake.
Many a time they went up and down those long, long lines, seeing
everything but the horses and the race; when the bell rang to clear
the course, going back to rest among the carts and donkeys, and not
coming out again until the heat was over. Many a time, too, was
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Punch displayed in the full zenith of his humour, but all this
while the eye of Thomas Codlin was upon them, and to escape without
notice was impracticable.
At length, late in the day, Mr Codlin pitched the show in a
convenient spot, and the spectators were soon in the very triumph
of the scene. The child, sitting down with the old man close behind
it, had been thinking how strange it was that horses who were such
fine honest creatures should seem to make vagabonds of all the men
they drew about them, when a loud laugh at some extemporaneous
witticism of Mr Short's, having allusion to the circumstances of
the day, roused her from her meditation and caused her to look
around.
If they were ever to get away unseen, that was the very moment.
Short was plying the quarter-staves vigorously and knocking the
characters in the fury of the combat against the sides of the show,
the people were looking on with laughing faces, and Mr Codlin had
relaxed into a grim smile as his roving eye detected hands going
into waistcoat pockets and groping secretly for sixpences. If they
were ever to get away unseen, that was the very moment. They seized
it, and fled.
They made a path through booths and carriages and throngs of
people, and never once stopped to look behind. The bell was ringing
and the course was cleared by the time they reached the ropes, but
they dashed across it insensible to the shouts and screeching that
assailed them for breaking in upon its
sanctity, and creeping under
the brow of the hill at a quick pace, made for the open fields.
CHAPTER 20
Day after day as he bent his steps homeward, returning from some
new effort to procure employment, Kit raised his eyes to the window
of the little room he had so much commended to the child, and hoped
to see some indication of her presence. His own earnest wish,
coupled with the assurance he had received from Quilp, filled him
with the belief that she would yet arrive to claim the humble
shelter he had offered, and from the death of each day's hope
another hope sprung up to live to-morrow.
'I think they must certainly come to-morrow, eh mother?' said Kit,
laying aside his hat with a weary air and sighing as he spoke.
'They have been gone a week. They surely couldn't stop away more
than a week, could they now?'
The mother shook her head, and reminded him how often he had been
disappointed already.
'For the matter of that,' said Kit, 'you speak true and sensible
enough, as you always do, mother. Still, I do consider that a week
is quite long enough for 'em to be rambling about; don't you say
so?'
'Quite long enough, Kit, longer than enough, but they may not come
back for all that.'
Kit was for a moment disposed to be vexed by this contradiction,
and not the less so from having anticipated it in his own mind and
knowing how just it was. But the impulse was only momentary, and
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the vexed look became a kind one before it had crossed the room.
'Then what do you think, mother, has become of 'em? You don't think
they've gone to sea, anyhow?'
'Not gone for sailors, certainly,' returned the mother with a
smile. 'But I can't help thinking that they have gone to some
foreign country.'
'I say,' cried Kit with a rueful face, 'don't talk like that,
mother.'
'I am afraid they have, and that's the truth,' she said. 'It's the
talk of all the neighbours, and there are some even that know of
their having been seen on board ship, and can tell you the name of
the place they've gone to, which is more than I can, my dear, for
it's a very hard one.'
'I don't believe it,' said Kit. 'Not a word of it. A set of idle
chatterboxes, how should they know!'
'They may be wrong of course,' returned the mother, 'I can't tell
about that, though I don't think it's at all unlikely that they're
in the right, for the talk is that the old gentleman had put by a
little money that nobody knew of, not even that ugly little man you
talk to me about--what's his name--Quilp; and that he and Miss
Nell have gone to live abroad where it can't be taken from them,
and they will never be disturbed. That don't seem very far out of
the way now, do it?'
Kit scratched his head mournfully, in reluctant admission that it
did not, and clambering up to the old nail took down the cage and
set himself to clean it and to feed the bird. His thoughts
reverting from this occupation to the little old gentleman who had
given him the shilling, he suddenly recollected that that was the
very day--nay, nearly the very hour--at which the little old
gentleman had said he should be at the Notary's house again. He no
sooner remembered this, than he hung up the cage with great
precipitation, and hastily explaining the nature of his errand,
went off at full speed to the appointed place.
It was some two minutes after the time when he reached the spot,
which was a considerable distance from his home, but by great good
luck the little old gentleman had not yet arrived; at least there
was no pony-chaise to be seen, and it was not likely that he had
come and gone again in so short a space. Greatly relieved to find
that he was not too late, Kit leant against a lamp-post to take
breath, and waited the advent of the pony and his charge.
Sure enough, before long the pony came trotting round the corner of
the street, looking as obstinate as pony might, and picking his
steps as if he were spying about for the cleanest places, and would
by no means dirty his feet or hurry himself inconveniently. Behind
the pony sat the little old gentleman, and by the old gentleman's
side sat the little old lady, carrying just such a nosegay as she
had brought before.
The old gentleman, the old lady, the pony, and the chaise, came up
the street in perfect unanimity, until they arrived within some
half a dozen doors of the Notary's house, when the pony, deceived
by a brass-plate beneath a tailor's knocker, came to a halt, and
maintained by a sturdy silence, that that was the house they
wanted.
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'Now, Sir, will you ha' the goodness to go on; this is not the
place,' said the old gentleman.
The pony looked with great attention into a fire-plug which was
near him, and appeared to be quite absorbed in contemplating it.
'Oh dear, such a naughty Whisker" cried the old lady. 'After being
so good too, and coming along so well! I am quite ashamed of him.
I don't know what we are to do with him, I really don't.'
The pony having thoroughly satisfied himself as to the nature and
properties of the fire-plug, looked into the air after his old
enemies the flies, and as there happened to be one of them tickling
his ear at that moment he shook his head and whisked his tail,
after which he appeared full of thought but quite comfortable and
collected. The old gentleman having exhausted his powers of
persuasion, alighted to lead him; whereupon the pony, perhaps
because he held this to be a sufficient concession, perhaps because
he happened to catch sight of the other brass-plate, or perhaps
because he was in a spiteful humour, darted off with the old lady
and stopped at the right house, leaving the old gentleman to come
panting on behind.
It was then that Kit presented himself at the pony's head, and
touched his hat with a smile.
'Why, bless me,' cried the old gentleman, 'the lad is here! My
dear, do you see?'
'I said I'd be here, Sir,' said Kit, patting Whisker's neck. 'I
hope you've had a pleasant ride, sir. He's a very nice little
pony.'
'My dear,' said the old gentleman. 'This is an uncommon lad; a good
lad, I'm sure.'
'I'm sure he is,' rejoined the old lady. 'A very good lad, and I am
sure he is a good son.'
Kit acknowledged these expressions of confidence by touching his
hat again and blushing very much. The old gentleman then handed the
old lady out, and after looking at him with an approving smile,
they went into the house--talking about him as they went, Kit
could not help feeling. Presently Mr Witherden, smelling very hard
at the nosegay, came to the window and looked at him, and after
that Mr Abel came and looked at him, and after that the old
gentleman and lady came and looked at him again, and after that
>
they all came and looked at him together, which Kit, feeling very
much embarrassed by, made a pretence of not observing. Therefore he
patted the pony more and more; and this liberty the pony most
handsomely permitted.
The faces had not disappeared from the window many moments, when Mr
Chuckster in his official coat, and with his hat hanging on his
head just as it happened to fall from its peg, appeared upon the
pavement, and telling him he was wanted inside, bade him go in and
he would mind the chaise the while. In giving him this direction Mr
Chuckster remarked that he wished that he might be blessed if he
could make out whether he (Kit) was 'precious raw' or 'precious
deep,' but intimated by a distrustful shake of the head, that he
inclined to the latter opinion.
Kit entered the office in a great tremor, for he was not used to
going among strange ladies and gentlemen, and the tin boxes and
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bundles of dusty papers had in his eyes an awful and venerable air.
Mr Witherden too was a bustling gentleman who talked loud and fast,
and all eyes were upon him, and he was very shabby.
'Well, boy,' said Mr Witherden, 'you came to work out that
shilling;--not to get another, hey?'
'No indeed, sir,' replied Kit, taking courage to look up. 'I never
thought of such a thing.'
'Father alive?' said the Notary.
'Dead, sir.'
'Mother?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Married again--eh?'
Kit made answer, not without some indignation, that she was a widow
with three children, and that as to her marrying again, if the
gentleman knew her he wouldn't think of such a thing. At this reply
Mr Witherden buried his nose in the flowers again, and whispered
behind the nosegay to the old gentleman that he believed the lad
was as honest a lad as need be.
'Now,' said Mr Garland when they had made some further inquiries of
him, 'I am not going to give you anything--'
'Thank you, sir,' Kit replied; and quite seriously too, for this
announcement seemed to free him from the suspicion which the Notary
had hinted.
'--But,' resumed the old gentleman, 'perhaps I may want to know
something more about you, so tell me where you live, and I'll put
it down in my pocket-book.'
Kit told him, and the old gentleman wrote down the address with his
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