The Old Curiosity Shop

by Dickens, Charles

  pencil. He had scarcely done so, when there was a great uproar in

  the street, and the old lady hurrying to the window cried that

  Whisker had run away, upon which Kit darted out to the rescue, and

  the others followed.

  It seemed that Mr Chuckster had been standing with his hands in his

  pockets looking carelessly at the pony, and occasionally insulting

  him with such admonitions as 'Stand still,'--'Be quiet,'--

  'Wo-a-a,' and the like, which by a pony of spirit cannot be borne.

  Consequently, the pony being deterred by no considerations of duty

  or obedience, and not having before him the slightest fear of the

  human eye, had at length started off, and was at that moment

  rattling down the street--Mr Chuckster, with his hat off and a

  pen behind his ear, hanging on in the rear of the chaise and making

  futile attempts to draw it the other way, to the unspeakable

  admiration of all beholders. Even in running away, however, Whisker

  was perverse, for he had not gone very far when he suddenly

  stopped, and before assistance could be rendered, commenced backing

  at nearly as quick a pace as he had gone forward. By these means Mr

  Chuckster was pushed and hustled to the office again, in a most

  inglorious manner, and arrived in a state of great exhaustion and

  discomfiture.

  The old lady then stepped into her seat, and Mr Abel (whom they had

  come to fetch) into his. The old gentleman, after reasoning with

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  the pony on the extreme impropriety of his conduct, and making the

  best amends in his power to Mr Chuckster, took his place also, and

  they drove away, waving a farewell to the Notary and his clerk, and

  more than once turning to nod kindly to Kit as he watched them from

  the road.

  CHAPTER 21

  Kit turned away and very soon forgot the pony, and the chaise, and

  the little old lady, and the little old gentleman, and the little

  young gentleman to boot, in thinking what could have become of his

  late master and his lovely grandchild, who were the fountain-head

  of all his meditations. Still casting about for some plausible

  means of accounting for their non-appearance, and of persuading

  himself that they must soon return, he bent his steps

  towards home, intending to finish the task which the sudden

  recollection of his contract had interrupted, and then to sally

  forth once more to seek his fortune for the day.

  When he came to the corner of the court in which he lived, lo and

  behold there was the pony again! Yes, there he was, looking more

  obstinate than ever; and alone in the chaise, keeping a steady

  watch upon his every wink, sat Mr Abel, who, lifting up his eyes by

  chance and seeing Kit pass by, nodded to him as though he would

  have nodded his head off.

  Kit wondered to see the pony again, so near his own home too, but

  it never occurred to him for what purpose the pony might have come

  there, or where the old lady and the old gentleman had gone, until

  he lifted the latch of the door, and walking in, found them seated

  in the room in conversation with his mother, at which unexpected

  sight he pulled off his hat and made his best bow in some

  confusion.

  'We are here before you, you see, Christopher,' said Mr Garland

  smiling.

  'Yes, sir,' said Kit; and as he said it, he looked towards his

  mother for an explanation of the visit.

  'The gentleman's been kind enough, my dear,' said she, in reply to

  this mute interrogation, 'to ask me whether you were in a good

  place, or in any place at all, and when I told him no, you were not

  in any, he was so good as to say that--'

  '--That we wanted a good lad in our house,' said the old gentleman

  and the old lady both together, 'and that perhaps we might think of

  it, if we found everything as we would wish it to be.'

  As this thinking of it, plainly meant the thinking of engaging Kit,

  he immediately partook of his mother's anxiety and fell into a

  great flutter; for the little old couple were very methodical and

  cautious, and asked so many questions that he began to be afraid

  there was no chance of his success.

  'You see, my good woman,' said Mrs Garland to Kit's mother, 'that

  it's necessary to be very careful and particular in such a matter

  as this, for we're only three in family, and are very quiet regular

  folks, and it would be a sad thing if we made any kind of mistake,

  and found things different from what we hoped and expected.'

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  To this, Kit's mother replied, that certainly it was quite true,

  and quite right, and quite proper, and Heaven forbid that she

  should shrink, or have cause to shrink, from any inquiry into her

  character or that of her son, who was a very good son though she

  was his mother, in which respect, she was bold to say, he took

  after his father, who was not only a good son to HIS mother, but

  the best of husbands and the best of fathers besides, which Kit

  could and would corroborate she knew, and so would little Jacob and

  the baby likewise if they were old enough, which unfortunately they

  were not, though as they didn't know what a loss they had had,

  perhaps it was a great deal better that they should be as young as

  they were; and so Kit's mother wound up a long story by wiping her

  eyes with her apron, and patting little Jacob's head, who was

  rocking the cradle and staring with all his might at the strange

  lady and gentleman.

  When Kit's mother had done speaking, the old lady struck in again,

  and said that she was quite sure she was a very honest and very

  respectable person or she never would have expressed herself in

  that manner, and that certainly the appearance of the children and

  the cleanliness of the house deserved great praise and did her the

  utmost credit, whereat Kit's mother dropped a curtsey and became

  consoled. Then the good woman entered in a long and minute account

  of Kit's life and history from the earliest period down to that

  time, not omitting to make mention of his miraculous fall out of a

  back-parlour window when an infant of tender years, or his uncommon

  sufferings in a state of measles, which were illustrated by correct

  imitations of the plaintive manner in which he called for toast and

  water, day and night, and said, 'don't cry, mother, I shall soon be

  better;' for proof of which statements reference was made to Mrs

  Green, lodger, at the cheesemonger's round the corner, and divers

  other ladies and gentlemen in various parts of England and Wales

  (and one Mr Brown who was supposed to be then a corporal in the

  East Indies, and who could of course be found with very little

  trouble), within whose personal knowledge the circumstances had

  occurred. This narration ended, Mr Garland put some questions to

  Kit respecting his qualifications and general acquirements, while

  Mrs Garland noticed the children, and hearing from Kit's mother

  certain remarkable circumstances whi
ch had attended the birth of

  each, related certain other remarkable circumstances which had

  attended the birth of her own son, Mr Abel, from which it appeared

  that both Kit's mother and herself had been, above and beyond all

  other women of what condition or age soever, peculiarly hemmed in

  with perils and dangers. Lastly, inquiry was made into the nature

  and extent of Kit's wardrobe, and a small advance being made to

  improve the same, he was formally hired at an annual income of Six

  Pounds, over and above his board and lodging, by Mr and Mrs

  Garland, of Abel Cottage, Finchley.

  It would be difficult to say which party appeared most pleased with

  this arrangement, the conclusion of which was hailed with nothing

  but pleasant looks and cheerful smiles on both sides. It was

  settled that Kit should repair to his new abode on the next day but

  one, in the morning; and finally, the little old couple, after

  bestowing a bright half-crown on little Jacob and another on the

  baby, took their leaves; being escorted as far as the street by

  their new attendant, who held the obdurate pony by the bridle while

  they took their seats, and saw them drive away with a lightened

  heart.

  'Well, mother,' said Kit, hurrying back into the house, 'I think my

  fortune's about made now.'

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  'I should think it was indeed, Kit,' rejoined his mother. 'Six

  pound a year! Only think!'

  'Ah!' said Kit, trying to maintain the gravity which the

  consideration of such a sum demanded, but grinning with delight in

  spite of himself. 'There's a property!'

  Kit drew a long breath when he had said this, and putting his hands

  deep into his pockets as if there were one year's wages at least in

  each, looked at his mother, as though he saw through her, and down

  an immense perspective of sovereigns beyond.

  'Please God we'll make such a lady of you for Sundays, mother! such

  a scholar of Jacob, such a child of the baby, such a room of the

  one up stairs! Six pound a year!'

  'Hem!' croaked a strange voice. 'What's that about six pound a

  year? What about six pound a year?' And as the voice made this

  inquiry, Daniel Quilp walked in with Richard Swiveller at his

  heels.

  'Who said he was to have six pound a year?' said Quilp, looking

  sharply round. 'Did the old man say it, or did little Nell say it?

  And what's he to have it for, and where are they, eh!' The good

  woman was so much alarmed by the sudden apparition of this unknown

  piece of ugliness, that she hastily caught the baby from its cradle

  and retreated into the furthest corner of the room; while little

  Jacob, sitting upon his stool with his hands on his knees, looked

  full at him in a species of fascination, roaring lustily all the

  time. Richard Swiveller took an easy observation of the family over

  Mr Quilp's head, and Quilp himself, with his hands in his pockets,

  smiled in an exquisite enjoyment of the commotion he occasioned.

  'Don't be frightened, mistress,' said Quilp, after a pause. 'Your

  son knows me; I don't eat babies; I don't like 'em. It will be as

  well to stop that young screamer though, in case I should be

  tempted to do him a mischief. Holloa, sir! Will you be quiet?'

  Little Jacob stemmed the course of two tears which he was squeezing

  out of his eyes, and instantly subsided into a silent horror.

  'Mind you don't break out again, you villain,' said Quilp, looking

  sternly at him, 'or I'll make faces at you and throw you into fits,

  I will. Now you sir, why haven't you been to me as you promised?'

  'What should I come for?' retorted Kit. 'I hadn't any business with

  you, no more than you had with me.'

  'Here, mistress,' said Quilp, turning quickly away, and appealing

  from Kit to his mother. 'When did his old master come or send here

  last? Is he here now? If not, where's he gone?'

  'He has not been here at all,' she replied. 'I wish we knew where

  they have gone, for it would make my son a good deal easier in his

  mind, and me too. If you're the gentleman named Mr Quilp, I should

  have thought you'd have known, and so I told him only this very

  day.'

  'Humph!' muttered Quilp, evidently disappointed to believe that

  this was true. 'That's what you tell this gentleman too, is it?'

  'If the gentleman comes to ask the same question, I can't tell him

  anything else, sir; and I only wish I could, for our own sakes,'

  was the reply.

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  Quilp glanced at Richard Swiveller, and observed that having met

  him on the threshold, he assumed that he had come in search of some

  intelligence of the fugitives. He supposed he was right?

  'Yes,' said Dick, 'that was the object of the present expedition.

  I fancied it possible--but let us go ring fancy's knell. I'll

  begin it.'

  'You seem disappointed,' observed Quilp.

  'A baffler, Sir, a baffler, that's all,' returned Dick. 'I have

  entered upon a speculation which has proved a baffler; and a Being

  of brightness and beauty will be offered up a sacrifice at Cheggs's

  altar. That's all, sir.'

  The dwarf eyed Richard with a sarcastic smile, but Richard, who had

  been taking a rather strong lunch with a friend, observed him not,

  and continued to deplore his fate with mournful and despondent

  looks. Quilp plainly discerned that there was some secret reason

  for this visit and his uncommon disappointment, and, in the hope

  that there might be means of mischief lurking beneath it, resolved

  to worm it out. He had no sooner adopted this resolution, than he

  conveyed as much honesty into his face as it was capable of

  expressing, and sympathised with Mr Swiveller exceedingly.

  'I am disappointed myself,' said Quilp, 'out of mere friendly

  feeling for them; but you have real reasons, private reasons I have

  no doubt, for your disappointment, and therefore it comes heavier

  than mine.'

  'Why, of course it does,' Dick observed, testily.

  'Upon my word, I'm very sorry, very sorry. I'm rather cast down

  myself. As we are companions in adversity, shall we be companions

  in the surest way of forgetting it? If you had no particular

  business, now, to lead you in another direction,' urged Quilp,

  plucking him by the sleeve and looking slyly up into his face out

  of the corners of his eyes, 'there is a house by the water-side

  where they have some of the noblest Schiedam--reputed to be

  smuggled, but that's between ourselves--that can be got in all the

  world. The landlord knows me. There's a little summer-house

  overlooking the river, where we might take a glass of this

  delicious liquor with a whiff of the best tobacco--it's in this

  case, and of the rarest quality, to my certain knowledge--and be

  perfectly snug and happy, could we possibly contrive it; or is

  there any very particular engagement that peremptorily takes you

  another way, Mr Swiveller, eh?'

  As the dwarf spoke, Dick's face relaxed int
o a compliant smile, and

  his brows slowly unbent. By the time he had finished, Dick was

  looking down at Quilp in the same sly manner as Quilp was looking

  up at him, and there remained nothing more to be done but to set

  out for the house in question. This they did, straightway. The

  moment their backs were turned, little Jacob thawed, and resumed

  his crying from the point where Quilp had frozen him.

  The summer-house of which Mr Quilp had spoken was a rugged wooden

  box, rotten and bare to see, which overhung the river's mud, and

  threatened to slide down into it. The tavern to which it belonged

  was a crazy building, sapped and undermined by the rats, and only

  upheld by great bars of wood which were reared against its walls,

  and had propped it up so long that even they were decaying and

  yielding with their load, and of a windy night might be heard to

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  creak and crack as if the whole fabric were about to come toppling

  down. The house stood--if anything so old and feeble could be said

  to stand--on a piece of waste ground, blighted with the unwholesome

  smoke of factory chimneys, and echoing the clank of iron wheels and

  rush of troubled water. Its internal accommodations amply fulfilled

  the promise of the outside. The rooms were low and damp, the clammy

  walls were pierced with chinks and holes, the rotten floors had sunk

  from their level, the very beams started from their places and warned

  the timid stranger from their neighbourhood.

  To this inviting spot, entreating him to observe its beauties as

  they passed along, Mr Quilp led Richard Swiveller, and on the table

  of the summer-house, scored deep with many a gallows and initial

  letter, there soon appeared a wooden keg, full of the vaunted

  liquor. Drawing it off into the glasses with the skill of a

  practised hand, and mixing it with about a third part of water, Mr

  Quilp assigned to Richard Swiveller his portion, and lighting his

  pipe from an end of a candle in a very old and battered lantern,

  drew himself together upon a seat and puffed away.

  'Is it good?' said Quilp, as Richard Swiveller smacked his lips,

  'is it strong and fiery? Does it make you wink, and choke, and your

  eyes water, and your breath come short--does it?'

  'Does it?' cried Dick, throwing away part of the contents of his

  glass, and filling it up with water, 'why, man, you don't mean to