The Pickwick Papers
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Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 Next page actuated by a sudden impulse, complied with his request. 'How,' said Job Trotter, as they walked away, 'how is your dear, good master? Oh, he is a worthy gentleman, Mr. Weller! I hope he didn't catch cold, that dreadful night, Sir.' There was a momentary look of deep slyness in Job Trotter's eye, as he said this, which ran a thrill through Mr. Weller's clenched fist, as he burned with a desire to make a demonstration on his ribs. Sam constrained himself, however, and replied that his master was extremely well. 'Oh, I am so glad,' replied Mr. Trotter; 'is he here?' 'Is yourn?' asked Sam, by way of reply. 'Oh, yes, he is here, and I grieve to say, Mr. Weller, he is going on worse than ever.' 'Ah, ah!' said Sam. 'Oh, shocking--terrible!' 'At a boarding-school?' said Sam. 'No, not at a boarding-school,' replied Job Trotter, with the same sly look which Sam had noticed before; 'not at a boarding-school.' 'At the house with the green gate?' said Sam, eyeing his companion closely. 'No, no--oh, not there,' replied Job, with a quickness very unusual to him, 'not there.' 'What was you a-doin' there?' asked Sam, with a sharp glance. 'Got inside the gate by accident, perhaps?' 'Why, Mr. Weller,' replied Job, 'I don't mind telling you my little secrets, because, you know, we took such a fancy for each other when we first met. You recollect how pleasant we were that morning?' 'Oh, yes,' said Sam, impatiently. 'I remember. Well?' 'Well,' replied Job, speaking with great precision, and in the low tone of a man who communicates an important secret; 'in that house with the green gate, Mr. Weller, they keep a good many servants.' 'So I should think, from the look on it,' interposed Sam. 'Yes,' continued Mr. Trotter, 'and one of them is a cook, who has saved up a little money, Mr. Weller, and is desirous, if she can establish herself in life, to open a little shop in the chandlery way, you see.' 'Yes.' 'Yes, Mr. Weller. Well, Sir, I met her at a chapel that I go to; a very neat little chapel in this town, Mr. Weller, where they sing the number four collection of hymns, which I generally carry about with me, in a little book, which you may perhaps have seen in my hand--and I got a little intimate with her, Mr. Weller, and from that, an acquaintance sprung up between us, and I may venture to say, Mr. Weller, that I am to be the chandler.' 'Ah, and a wery amiable chandler you'll make,' replied Sam, eyeing Job with a side look of intense dislike. 'The great advantage of this, Mr. Weller,' continued Job, his eyes filling with tears as he spoke, 'will be, that I shall be able to leave my present disgraceful service with that bad man, and to devote myself to a better and more virtuous life; more like the way in which I was brought up, Mr. Weller.' 'You must ha' been wery nicely brought up,' said Sam. 'Oh, very, Mr. Weller, very,' replied Job. At the recollection of the purity of his youthful days, Mr. Trotter pulled forth the pink handkerchief, and wept copiously. 'You must ha' been an uncommon nice boy, to go to school vith,' said Sam. 'I was, sir,' replied Job, heaving a deep sigh; 'I was the idol of the place.' 'Ah,' said Sam, 'I don't wonder at it. What a comfort you must ha' been to your blessed mother.' At these words, Mr. Job Trotter inserted an end of the pink handkerchief into the corner of each eye, one after the other, and began to weep copiously. 'Wot's the matter with the man,' said Sam, indignantly. 'Chelsea water-works is nothin' to you. What are you melting vith now? The consciousness o' willainy?' 'I cannot keep my feelings down, Mr. Weller,' said Job, after a short pause. 'To think that my master should have suspected the conversation I had with yours, and so dragged me away in a post-chaise, and after persuading the sweet young lady to say she knew nothing of him, and bribing the school-mistress to do the same, deserted her for a better speculation! Oh! Mr. Weller, it makes me shudder.' 'Oh, that was the vay, was it?' said Mr. Weller. 'To be sure it was,' replied Job. 'Vell,' said Sam, as they had now arrived near the hotel, 'I vant to have a little bit o' talk with you, Job; so if you're not partickler engaged, I should like to see you at the Great White Horse to- night, somewheres about eight o'clock.' 'I shall be sure to come,' said Job. 'Yes, you'd better,' replied Sam, with a very meaning look, 'or else I shall perhaps be askin' arter you, at the other side of the green gate, and then I might cut you out, you know.' 'I shall be sure to be with you, sir,' said Mr. Trotter; and wringing Sam's hand with the utmost fervour, he walked away. 'Take care, Job Trotter, take care,' said Sam, looking after him, 'or I shall be one too many for you this time. I shall, indeed.' Having uttered this soliloquy, and looked after Job till he was to be seen no more, Mr. Weller made the best of his way to his master's bedroom. 'It's all in training, Sir,' said Sam. 'What's in training, Sam?' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 'I've found 'em out, Sir,' said Sam. 'Found out who?' 'That 'ere queer customer, and the melan-cholly chap with the black hair.' 'Impossible, Sam!' said Mr. Pickwick, with the greatest energy. 'Where are they, Sam: where are they?' 'Hush, hush!' replied Mr. Weller; and as he assisted Mr. Pickwick to dress, he detailed the plan of action on which he proposed to enter. 'But when is this to be done, Sam?' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 'All in good time, Sir,' replied Sam. Whether it was done in good time, or not, will be seen hereafter. CHAPTER XXIV WHEREIN Mr. PETER MAGNUS GROWS JEALOUS, AND THE MIDDLE-AGED LADY APPREHENSIVE, WHICH BRINGS THE PICKWICKIANS WITHIN THE GRASP OF THE LAW When Mr. Pickwick descended to the room in which he and Mr. Peter Magnus had spent the preceding evening, he found that gentleman with the major part of the contents of the two bags, the leathern hat-box, and the brown-paper parcel, displaying to all possible advantage on his person, while he himself was pacing up and down the room in a state of the utmost excitement and agitation. 'Good-morning, Sir,' said Mr. Peter Magnus. 'What do you think of this, Sir?' 'Very effective indeed,' replied Mr. Pickwick, surveying the garments of Mr. Peter Magnus with a good-natured smile. 'Yes, I think it'll do,' said Mr. Magnus. 'Mr. Pickwick, Sir, I have sent up my card.' 'Have you?' said Mr. Pickwick. 'And the waiter brought back word, that she would see me at eleven--at eleven, Sir; it only wants a quarter now.' 'Very near the time,' said Mr. Pickwick. 'Yes, it is rather near,' replied Mr. Magnus, 'rather too near to be pleasant--eh! Mr. Pickwick, sir?' 'Confidence is a great thing in these cases,' observed Mr. Pickwick. 'I believe it is, Sir,' said Mr. Peter Magnus. 'I am very confident, Sir. Really, Mr. Pickwick, I do not see why a man should feel any fear in such a case as this, sir. What is it, Sir? There's nothing to be ashamed of; it's a matter of mutual accommodation, nothing more. Husband on one side, wife on the other. That's my view of the matter, Mr. Pickwick.' 'It is a very philosophical one,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 'But breakfast is waiting, Mr. Magnus. Come.' Down they sat to breakfast, but it was evident, notwithstanding the boasting of Mr. Peter Magnus, that he laboured under a very considerable degree of nervousness, of which loss of appetite, a propensity to upset the tea-things, a spectral attempt |
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