einrichtung langes wohnzimmer

our mutual friend by charles dickenschapter 1 lodgers in queer street it was a foggy day in london, and the fogwas heavy and dark. animate london, with smarting eyes andirritated lungs, was blinking, wheezing, and choking; inanimate london was a sootyspectre, divided in purpose between being visible and invisible, and so being whollyneither. gaslights flared in the shops with ahaggard and unblest air, as knowing themselves to be night-creatures that hadno business abroad under the sun; while the sun itself when it was for a few moments

dimly indicated through circling eddies offog, showed as if it had gone out and were collapsing flat and cold. even in the surrounding country it was afoggy day, but there the fog was grey, whereas in london it was, at about theboundary line, dark yellow, and a little within it brown, and then browner, and then browner, until at the heart of the city--which call saint mary axe--it was rusty- black. from any point of the high ridge of landnorthward, it might have been discerned that the loftiest buildings made anoccasional struggle to get their heads

above the foggy sea, and especially that the great dome of saint paul's seemed todie hard; but this was not perceivable in the streets at their feet, where the wholemetropolis was a heap of vapour charged with muffled sound of wheels, and enfoldinga gigantic catarrh. at nine o'clock on such a morning, theplace of business of pubsey and co. was not the liveliest object even in saint maryaxe--which is not a very lively spot--with a sobbing gaslight in the counting-house window, and a burglarious stream of fogcreeping in to strangle it through the keyhole of the main door.

but the light went out, and the main dooropened, and riah came forth with a bag under his arm. almost in the act of coming out at thedoor, riah went into the fog, and was lost to the eyes of saint mary axe. but the eyes of this history can follow himwestward, by cornhill, cheapside, fleet street, and the strand, to piccadilly andthe albany. thither he went at his grave and measuredpace, staff in hand, skirt at heel; and more than one head, turning to look back athis venerable figure already lost in the mist, supposed it to be some ordinary

figure indistinctly seen, which fancy andthe fog had worked into that passing likeness. arrived at the house in which his master'schambers were on the second floor, riah proceeded up the stairs, and paused atfascination fledgeby's door. making free with neither bell nor knocker,he struck upon the door with the top of his staff, and, having listened, sat down onthe threshold. it was characteristic of his habitualsubmission, that he sat down on the raw dark staircase, as many of his ancestorshad probably sat down in dungeons, taking what befell him as it might befall.

after a time, when he had grown so cold asto be fain to blow upon his fingers, he arose and knocked with his staff again, andlistened again, and again sat down to wait. thrice he repeated these actions before hislistening ears were greeted by the voice of fledgeby, calling from his bed, 'hold yourrow!--i'll come and open the door directly!' but, in lieu of coming directly, he fellinto a sweet sleep for some quarter of an hour more, during which added interval riahsat upon the stairs and waited with perfect patience. at length the door stood open, and mrfledgeby's retreating drapery plunged into

bed again. following it at a respectful distance, riahpassed into the bed-chamber, where a fire had been sometime lighted, and was burningbriskly. 'why, what time of night do you mean tocall it?' inquired fledgeby, turning away beneath the clothes, and presenting acomfortable rampart of shoulder to the chilled figure of the old man. 'sir, it is full half-past ten in themorning.' 'the deuce it is!then it must be precious foggy?' 'very foggy, sir.'

'and raw, then?' 'chill and bitter,' said riah, drawing outa handkerchief, and wiping the moisture from his beard and long grey hair as hestood on the verge of the rug, with his eyes on the acceptable fire. with a plunge of enjoyment, fledgebysettled himself afresh. 'any snow, or sleet, or slush, or anythingof that sort?' he asked. 'no, sir, no. not quite so bad as that.the streets are pretty clean.' 'you needn't brag about it,' returnedfledgeby, disappointed in his desire to

heighten the contrast between his bed andthe streets. 'but you're always bragging aboutsomething. got the books there?''they are here, sir.' 'all right. i'll turn the general subject over in mymind for a minute or two, and while i'm about it you can empty your bag and getready for me.' with another comfortable plunge, mrfledgeby fell asleep again. the old man, having obeyed his directions,sat down on the edge of a chair, and, folding his hands before him, graduallyyielded to the influence of the warmth, and

dozed. he was roused by mr fledgeby's appearingerect at the foot of the bed, in turkish slippers, rose-coloured turkish trousers(got cheap from somebody who had cheated some other somebody out of them), and agown and cap to correspond. in that costume he would have left nothingto be desired, if he had been further fitted out with a bottomless chair, alantern, and a bunch of matches. 'now, old 'un!' cried fascination, in hislight raillery, 'what dodgery are you up to next, sitting there with your eyes shut?you ain't asleep. catch a weasel at it, and catch a jew!'

'truly, sir, i fear i nodded,' said the oldman. 'not you!' returned fledgeby, with acunning look. 'a telling move with a good many, i daresay, but it won't put me off my guard. not a bad notion though, if you want tolook indifferent in driving a bargain. oh, you are a dodger!' the old man shook his head, gentlyrepudiating the imputation, and suppressed a sigh, and moved to the table at which mrfledgeby was now pouring out for himself a cup of steaming and fragrant coffee from apot that had stood ready on the hob. it was an edifying spectacle, the young manin his easy chair taking his coffee, and

the old man with his grey head bent,standing awaiting his pleasure. 'now!' said fledgeby. 'fork out your balance in hand, and proveby figures how you make it out that it ain't more.first of all, light that candle.' riah obeyed, and then taking a bag from hisbreast, and referring to the sum in the accounts for which they made himresponsible, told it out upon the table. fledgeby told it again with great care, andrang every sovereign. 'i suppose,' he said, taking one up to eyeit closely, 'you haven't been lightening any of these; but it's a trade of yourpeople's, you know.

you understand what sweating a pound means,don't you?' 'much as you do, sir,' returned the oldman, with his hands under opposite cuffs of his loose sleeves, as he stood at thetable, deferentially observant of the master's face. 'may i take the liberty to say something?''you may,' fledgeby graciously conceded. 'do you not, sir--without intending it--ofa surety without intending it--sometimes mingle the character i fairly earn in youremployment, with the character which it is your policy that i should bear?' 'i don't find it worth my while to cutthings so fine as to go into the inquiry,'

fascination coolly answered.'not in justice?' 'bother justice!' said fledgeby. 'not in generosity?''jews and generosity!' said fledgeby. 'that's a good connexion!bring out your vouchers, and don't talk jerusalem palaver.' the vouchers were produced, and for thenext half-hour mr fledgeby concentrated his sublime attention on them. they and the accounts were all foundcorrect, and the books and the papers resumed their places in the bag.

'next,' said fledgeby, 'concerning thatbill-broking branch of the business; the branch i like best.what queer bills are to be bought, and at what prices? you have got your list of what's in themarket?' 'sir, a long list,' replied riah, takingout a pocket-book, and selecting from its contents a folded paper, which, beingunfolded, became a sheet of foolscap covered with close writing. 'whew!' whistled fledgeby, as he took it inhis hand. 'queer street is full of lodgers just atpresent!

these are to be disposed of in parcels; arethey?' 'in parcels as set forth,' returned the oldman, looking over his master's shoulder; 'or the lump.' 'half the lump will be waste-paper, oneknows beforehand,' said fledgeby. 'can you get it at waste-paper price?that's the question.' riah shook his head, and fledgeby cast hissmall eyes down the list. they presently began to twinkle, and he nosooner became conscious of their twinkling, than he looked up over his shoulder at thegrave face above him, and moved to the chimney-piece.

making a desk of it, he stood there withhis back to the old man, warming his knees, perusing the list at his leisure, and oftenreturning to some lines of it, as though they were particularly interesting. at those times he glanced in the chimney-glass to see what note the old man took of him. he took none that could be detected, but,aware of his employer's suspicions, stood with his eyes on the ground. mr fledgeby was thus amiably engaged when astep was heard at the outer door, and the door was heard to open hastily.'hark!

that's your doing, you pump of israel,'said fledgeby; 'you can't have shut it.' then the step was heard within, and thevoice of mr alfred lammle called aloud, 'are you anywhere here, fledgeby?' to which fledgeby, after cautioning riah ina low voice to take his cue as it should be given him, replied, 'here i am!' and openedhis bedroom door. 'come in!' said fledgeby. 'this gentleman is only pubsey and co. ofsaint mary axe, that i am trying to make terms for an unfortunate friend with in amatter of some dishonoured bills. but really pubsey and co. are so strictwith their debtors, and so hard to move,

that i seem to be wasting my time.can't i make any terms with you on my friend's part, mr riah?' 'i am but the representative of another,sir,' returned the jew in a low voice. 'i do as i am bidden by my principal.it is not my capital that is invested in the business. it is not my profit that arises therefrom.''ha ha!' laughed fledgeby. 'lammle?''ha ha!' laughed lammle. 'yes. of course. we know.''devilish good, ain't it, lammle?' said

fledgeby, unspeakably amused by his hiddenjoke. 'always the same, always the same!' saidlammle. 'mr--' 'riah, pubsey and co. saint mary axe,'fledgeby put in, as he wiped away the tears that trickled from his eyes, so rare washis enjoyment of his secret joke. 'mr riah is bound to observe the invariableforms for such cases made and provided,' said lammle.'he is only the representative of another!' cried fledgeby. 'does as he is told by his principal!not his capital that's invested in the

business.oh, that's good! ha ha ha ha!' mr lammle joined in the laugh and lookedknowing; and the more he did both, the more exquisite the secret joke became for mrfledgeby. 'however,' said that fascinating gentleman,wiping his eyes again, 'if we go on in this way, we shall seem to be almost making gameof mr riah, or of pubsey and co. saint mary axe, or of somebody: which is far from ourintention. mr riah, if you would have the kindness tostep into the next room for a few moments while i speak with mr lammle here, i shouldlike to try to make terms with you once

again before you go.' the old man, who had never raised his eyesduring the whole transaction of mr fledgeby's joke, silently bowed and passedout by the door which fledgeby opened for having closed it on him, fledgeby returnedto lammle, standing with his back to the bedroom fire, with one hand under his coat-skirts, and all his whiskers in the other. 'halloa!' said fledgeby. 'there's something wrong!''how do you know it?' demanded lammle. 'because you show it,' replied fledgeby inunintentional rhyme. 'well then; there is,' said lammle; 'thereis something wrong; the whole thing's

wrong.' 'i say!' remonstrated fascination veryslowly, and sitting down with his hands on his knees to stare at his glowering friendwith his back to the fire. 'i tell you, fledgeby,' repeated lammle,with a sweep of his right arm, 'the whole thing's wrong.the game's up.' 'what game's up?' demanded fledgeby, asslowly as before, and more sternly. 'the game.our game. read that.' fledgeby took a note from his extended handand read it aloud.

'alfred lammle, esquire. sir: allow mrs podsnap and myself toexpress our united sense of the polite attentions of mrs alfred lammle andyourself towards our daughter, georgiana. allow us also, wholly to reject them forthe future, and to communicate our final desire that the two families may becomeentire strangers. i have the honour to be, sir, your mostobedient and very humble servant, john podsnap.' fledgeby looked at the three blank sides ofthis note, quite as long and earnestly as at the first expressive side, and thenlooked at lammle, who responded with

another extensive sweep of his right arm. 'whose doing is this?' said fledgeby.'impossible to imagine,' said lammle. 'perhaps,' suggested fledgeby, afterreflecting with a very discontented brow, 'somebody has been giving you a badcharacter.' 'or you,' said lammle, with a deeper frown. mr fledgeby appeared to be on the verge ofsome mutinous expressions, when his hand happened to touch his nose. a certain remembrance connected with thatfeature operating as a timely warning, he took it thoughtfully between his thumb andforefinger, and pondered; lammle meanwhile

eyeing him with furtive eyes. 'well!' said fledgeby.'this won't improve with talking about. if we ever find out who did it, we'll markthat person. there's nothing more to be said, exceptthat you undertook to do what circumstances prevent your doing.' 'and that you undertook to do what youmight have done by this time, if you had made a prompter use of circumstances,'snarled lammle. 'hah! that,' remarked fledgeby, with hishands in the turkish trousers, 'is matter of opinion.'

'mr fledgeby,' said lammle, in a bullyingtone, 'am i to understand that you in any way reflect upon me, or hintdissatisfaction with me, in this affair?' 'no,' said fledgeby; 'provided you havebrought my promissory note in your pocket, and now hand it over.'lammle produced it, not without reluctance. fledgeby looked at it, identified it,twisted it up, and threw it into the fire. they both looked at it as it blazed, wentout, and flew in feathery ash up the chimney. 'now, mr fledgeby,' said lammle, as before;'am i to understand that you in any way reflect upon me, or hint dissatisfactionwith me, in this affair?'

'no,' said fledgeby. 'finally and unreservedly no?''yes.' 'fledgeby, my hand.' mr fledgeby took it, saying, 'and if weever find out who did this, we'll mark that person.and in the most friendly manner, let me mention one thing more. i don't know what your circumstances are,and i don't ask. you have sustained a loss here.many men are liable to be involved at times, and you may be, or you may not be.

but whatever you do, lammle, don't--don't--don't, i beg of you--ever fall into the hands of pubsey and co. in the next room,for they are grinders. regular flayers and grinders, my dearlammle,' repeated fledgeby with a peculiar relish, 'and they'll skin you by the inch,from the nape of your neck to the sole of your foot, and grind every inch of yourskin to tooth-powder. you have seen what mr riah is.never fall into his hands, lammle, i beg of you as a friend!' mr lammle, disclosing some alarm at thesolemnity of this affectionate adjuration, demanded why the devil he ever should fallinto the hands of pubsey and co.?

'to confess the fact, i was made a littleuneasy,' said the candid fledgeby, 'by the manner in which that jew looked at you whenhe heard your name. i didn't like his eye. but it may have been the heated fancy of afriend. of course if you are sure that you have nopersonal security out, which you may not be quite equal to meeting, and which can havegot into his hands, it must have been fancy. still, i didn't like his eye.'the brooding lammle, with certain white dints coming and going in his palpitatingnose, looked as if some tormenting imp were

pinching it. fledgeby, watching him with a twitch in hismean face which did duty there for a smile, looked very like the tormentor who waspinching. 'but i mustn't keep him waiting too long,'said fledgeby, 'or he'll revenge it on my unfortunate friend.how's your very clever and agreeable wife? she knows we have broken down?' 'i showed her the letter.''very much surprised?' asked fledgeby. 'i think she would have been more so,'answered lammle, 'if there had been more go in you?'

'oh!--she lays it upon me, then?''mr fledgeby, i will not have my words misconstrued.' 'don't break out, lammle,' urged fledgeby,in a submissive tone, 'because there's no occasion.i only asked a question. then she don't lay it upon me? to ask another question.''no, sir.' 'very good,' said fledgeby, plainly seeingthat she did. 'my compliments to her. good-bye!'they shook hands, and lammle strode out

pondering. fledgeby saw him into the fog, and,returning to the fire and musing with his face to it, stretched the legs of the rose-coloured turkish trousers wide apart, and meditatively bent his knees, as if he weregoing down upon them. 'you have a pair of whiskers, lammle, whichi never liked,' murmured fledgeby, 'and which money can't produce; you are boastfulof your manners and your conversation; you wanted to pull my nose, and you have let me in for a failure, and your wife says i amthe cause of it. i'll bowl you down.

i will, though i have no whiskers,' here herubbed the places where they were due, 'and no manners, and no conversation!' having thus relieved his noble mind, hecollected the legs of the turkish trousers, straightened himself on his knees, andcalled out to riah in the next room, 'halloa, you sir!' at sight of the old man re-entering with agentleness monstrously in contrast with the character he had given him, mr fledgeby wasso tickled again, that he exclaimed, laughing, 'good! good!upon my soul it is uncommon good!'

'now, old 'un,' proceeded fledgeby, when hehad had his laugh out, 'you'll buy up these lots that i mark with my pencil--there's atick there, and a tick there, and a tick there--and i wager two-pence you'll afterwards go on squeezing those christianslike the jew you are. now, next you'll want a cheque--or you'llsay you want it, though you've capital enough somewhere, if one only knew where,but you'd be peppered and salted and grilled on a gridiron before you'd own toit--and that cheque i'll write.' when he had unlocked a drawer and taken akey from it to open another drawer, in which was another key that opened anotherdrawer, in which was another key that

opened another drawer, in which was the cheque book; and when he had written thecheque; and when, reversing the key and drawer process, he had placed his chequebook in safety again; he beckoned the old man, with the folded cheque, to come andtake it. 'old 'un,' said fledgeby, when the jew hadput it in his pocketbook, and was putting that in the breast of his outer garment;'so much at present for my affairs. now a word about affairs that are notexactly mine. where is she?' with his hand not yet withdrawn from thebreast of his garment, riah started and

paused.'oho!' said fledgeby. 'didn't expect it! where have you hidden her?'showing that he was taken by surprise, the old man looked at his master with somepassing confusion, which the master highly enjoyed. 'is she in the house i pay rent and taxesfor in saint mary axe?' demanded fledgeby. 'no, sir.' 'is she in your garden up atop of thathouse--gone up to be dead, or whatever the game is?' asked fledgeby.'no, sir.'

'where is she then?' riah bent his eyes upon the ground, as ifconsidering whether he could answer the question without breach of faith, and thensilently raised them to fledgeby's face, as if he could not. 'come!' said fledgeby.'i won't press that just now. but i want to know this, and i will knowthis, mind you. what are you up to?' the old man, with an apologetic action ofhis head and hands, as not comprehending the master's meaning, addressed to him alook of mute inquiry.

'you can't be a gallivanting dodger,' saidfledgeby. 'for you're a "regular pity the sorrows",you know--if you do know any christian rhyme--"whose trembling limbs have bornehim to"--et cetrer. you're one of the patriarchs; you're ashaky old card; and you can't be in love with this lizzie?''o, sir!' expostulated riah. 'o, sir, sir, sir!' 'then why,' retorted fledgeby, with someslight tinge of a blush, 'don't you out with your reason for having your spoon inthe soup at all?' 'sir, i will tell you the truth.

but (your pardon for the stipulation) it isin sacred confidence; it is strictly upon honour.''honour too!' cried fledgeby, with a mocking lip. 'honour among jews.well. cut away.''it is upon honour, sir?' the other still stipulated, with respectful firmness. 'oh, certainly.honour bright,' said fledgeby. the old man, never bidden to sit down,stood with an earnest hand laid on the back of the young man's easy chair.

the young man sat looking at the fire witha face of listening curiosity, ready to check him off and catch him tripping.'cut away,' said fledgeby. 'start with your motive.' 'sir, i have no motive but to help thehelpless.' mr fledgeby could only express the feelingsto which this incredible statement gave rise in his breast, by a prodigiously longderisive sniff. 'how i came to know, and much to esteem andto respect, this damsel, i mentioned when you saw her in my poor garden on the house-top,' said the jew. 'did you?' said fledgeby, distrustfully.

'well.perhaps you did, though.' 'the better i knew her, the more interest ifelt in her fortunes. they gathered to a crisis. i found her beset by a selfish andungrateful brother, beset by an unacceptable wooer, beset by the snares ofa more powerful lover, beset by the wiles of her own heart.' 'she took to one of the chaps then?''sir, it was only natural that she should incline towards him, for he had many andgreat advantages. but he was not of her station, and to marryher was not in his mind.

perils were closing round her, and thecircle was fast darkening, when i--being as you have said, sir, too old and broken tobe suspected of any feeling for her but a father's--stepped in, and counselledflight. i said, "my daughter, there are times ofmoral danger when the hardest virtuous resolution to form is flight, and when themost heroic bravery is flight." she answered, she had had this in herthoughts; but whither to fly without help she knew not, and there were none to helpher. i showed her there was one to help her, andit was i. and she is gone.''what did you do with her?' asked fledgeby,

feeling his cheek. 'i placed her,' said the old man, 'at adistance;' with a grave smooth outward sweep from one another of his two openhands at arm's length; 'at a distance-- among certain of our people, where her industry would serve her, and where shecould hope to exercise it, unassailed from any quarter.' fledgeby's eyes had come from the fire tonotice the action of his hands when he said 'at a distance.' fledgeby now tried (very unsuccessfully) toimitate that action, as he shook his head

and said, 'placed her in that direction,did you? oh you circular old dodger!' with one hand across his breast and theother on the easy chair, riah, without justifying himself, waited for furtherquestioning. but, that it was hopeless to question himon that one reserved point, fledgeby, with his small eyes too near together, saw fullwell. 'lizzie,' said fledgeby, looking at thefire again, and then looking up. 'humph, lizzie.you didn't tell me the other name in your garden atop of the house.

i'll be more communicative with you.the other name's hexam.' riah bent his head in assent.'look here, you sir,' said fledgeby. 'i have a notion i know something of theinveigling chap, the powerful one. has he anything to do with the law?''nominally, i believe it his calling.' 'i thought so. name anything like lightwood?''sir, not at all like.' 'come, old 'un,' said fledgeby, meeting hiseyes with a wink, 'say the name.' 'wrayburn.' 'by jupiter!' cried fledgeby.'that one, is it?

i thought it might be the other, but inever dreamt of that one! i shouldn't object to your baulking eitherof the pair, dodger, for they are both conceited enough; but that one is as cool acustomer as ever i met with. got a beard besides, and presumes upon it. well done, old 'un!go on and prosper!' brightened by this unexpected commendation,riah asked were there more instructions for him? 'no,' said fledgeby, 'you may toddle now,judah, and grope about on the orders you have got.'

dismissed with those pleasing words, theold man took his broad hat and staff, and left the great presence: more as if he weresome superior creature benignantly blessing mr fledgeby, than the poor dependent onwhom he set his foot. left alone, mr fledgeby locked his outerdoor, and came back to his fire. 'well done you!' said fascination tohimself. 'slow, you may be; sure, you are!' this he twice or thrice repeated with muchcomplacency, as he again dispersed the legs of the turkish trousers and bent the knees.'a tidy shot that, i flatter myself,' he then soliloquised.

'and a jew brought down with it!now, when i heard the story told at lammle's, i didn't make a jump at riah.not a hit of it; i got at him by degrees.' herein he was quite accurate; it being hishabit, not to jump, or leap, or make an upward spring, at anything in life, but tocrawl at everything. 'i got at him,' pursued fledgeby, feelingfor his whisker, 'by degrees. if your lammles or your lightwoods had gotat him anyhow, they would have asked him the question whether he hadn't something todo with that gal's disappearance. i knew a better way of going to work. having got behind the hedge, and put him inthe light, i took a shot at him and brought

him down plump.oh! it don't count for much, being a jew, in a match against me!' another dry twist in place of a smile, madehis face crooked here. 'as to christians,' proceeded fledgeby,'look out, fellow-christians, particularly you that lodge in queer street! i have got the run of queer street now, andyou shall see some games there. to work a lot of power over you and you notknow it, knowing as you think yourselves, would be almost worth laying out moneyupon. but when it comes to squeezing a profit outof you into the bargain, it's something

like!' with this apostrophe mr fledgebyappropriately proceeded to divest himself of his turkish garments, and invest himselfwith christian attire. pending which operation, and his morningablutions, and his anointing of himself with the last infallible preparation forthe production of luxuriant and glossy hair upon the human countenance (quacks being the only sages he believed in besidesusurers), the murky fog closed about him and shut him up in its sooty embrace. if it had never let him out any more, theworld would have had no irreparable loss,

but could have easily replaced him from itsstock on hand. > our mutual friend by charles dickenschapter 2 a respected friend in a new aspect in the evening of this same foggy day whenthe yellow window-blind of pubsey and co. was drawn down upon the day's work, riahthe jew once more came forth into saint mary axe. but this time he carried no bag, and wasnot bound on his master's affairs. he passed over london bridge, and returnedto the middlesex shore by that of

westminster, and so, ever wading throughthe fog, waded to the doorstep of the dolls' dressmaker. miss wren expected him. he could see her through the window by thelight of her low fire--carefully banked up with damp cinders that it might last thelonger and waste the less when she was out- -sitting waiting for him in her bonnet. his tap at the glass roused her from themusing solitude in which she sat, and she came to the door to open it; aiding hersteps with a little crutch-stick. 'good evening, godmother!' said miss jennywren.

the old man laughed, and gave her his armto lean on. 'won't you come in and warm yourself,godmother?' asked miss jenny wren. 'not if you are ready, cinderella, mydear.' 'well!' exclaimed miss wren, delighted. 'now you are a clever old boy!if we gave prizes at this establishment (but we only keep blanks), you should havethe first silver medal, for taking me up so quick.' as she spake thus, miss wren removed thekey of the house-door from the keyhole and put it in her pocket, and then bustlinglyclosed the door, and tried it as they both

stood on the step. satisfied that her dwelling was safe, shedrew one hand through the old man's arm and prepared to ply her crutch-stick with theother. but the key was an instrument of suchgigantic proportions, that before they started riah proposed to carry it.'no, no, no! i'll carry it myself,' returned miss wren. 'i'm awfully lopsided, you know, and stoweddown in my pocket it'll trim the ship. to let you into a secret, godmother, i wearmy pocket on my high side, o' purpose.' with that they began their plodding throughthe fog.

'yes, it was truly sharp of you,godmother,' resumed miss wren with great approbation, 'to understand me. but, you see, you are so like the fairygodmother in the bright little books! you look so unlike the rest of people, andso much as if you had changed yourself into that shape, just this moment, with somebenevolent object. boh!' cried miss jenny, putting her faceclose to the old man's. 'i can see your features, godmother, behindthe beard.' 'does the fancy go to my changing otherobjects too, jenny?' 'ah! that it does!

if you'd only borrow my stick and tap thispiece of pavement--this dirty stone that my foot taps--it would start up a coach andsix. i say! let's believe so!''with all my heart,' replied the good old man.'and i'll tell you what i must ask you to do, godmother. i must ask you to be so kind as give mychild a tap, and change him altogether. o my child has been such a bad, bad childof late! it worries me nearly out of my wits.

not done a stroke of work these ten days.has had the horrors, too, and fancied that four copper-coloured men in red wanted tothrow him into a fiery furnace.' 'but that's dangerous, jenny.' 'dangerous, godmother?my child is always dangerous, more or less. he might'--here the little creature glancedback over her shoulder at the sky--'be setting the house on fire at this presentmoment. i don't know who would have a child, for mypart! it's no use shaking him.i have shaken him till i have made myself giddy.

"why don't you mind your commandments andhonour your parent, you naughty old boy?" i said to him all the time.but he only whimpered and stared at me.' 'what shall be changed, after him?' askedriah in a compassionately playful voice. 'upon my word, godmother, i am afraid imust be selfish next, and get you to set me right in the back and the legs. it's a little thing to you with your power,godmother, but it's a great deal to poor weak aching me.' there was no querulous complaining in thewords, but they were not the less touching for that.'and then?'

'yes, and then--you know, godmother. we'll both jump up into the coach and sixand go to lizzie. this reminds me, godmother, to ask you aserious question. you are as wise as wise can be (having beenbrought up by the fairies), and you can tell me this: is it better to have had agood thing and lost it, or never to have had it?' 'explain, god-daughter.''i feel so much more solitary and helpless without lizzie now, than i used to feelbefore i knew her.' (tears were in her eyes as she said so.)

'some beloved companionship fades out ofmost lives, my dear,' said the jew,--'that of a wife, and a fair daughter, and a sonof promise, has faded out of my own life-- but the happiness was.' 'ah!' said miss wren thoughtfully, by nomeans convinced, and chopping the exclamation with that sharp little hatchetof hers; 'then i tell you what change i think you had better begin with, godmother. you had better change is into was and wasinto is, and keep them so.' 'would that suit your case?would you not be always in pain then?' asked the old man tenderly.

'right!' exclaimed miss wren with anotherchop. 'you have changed me wiser, godmother.--not,' she added with the quaint hitch of her chin and eyes, 'that you need be a verywonderful godmother to do that deed.' thus conversing, and having crossedwestminster bridge, they traversed the ground that riah had lately traversed, andnew ground likewise; for, when they had recrossed the thames by way of london bridge, they struck down by the river andheld their still foggier course that way. but previously, as they were going along,jenny twisted her venerable friend aside to a brilliantly-lighted toy-shop window, andsaid: 'now look at 'em!

all my work!' this referred to a dazzling semicircle ofdolls in all the colours of the rainbow, who were dressed for presentation at court,for going to balls, for going out driving, for going out on horseback, for going out walking, for going to get married, forgoing to help other dolls to get married, for all the gay events of life.''pretty, pretty, pretty!' said the old man with a clap of his hands. 'most elegant taste!''glad you like 'em,' returned miss wren, loftily.'but the fun is, godmother, how i make the

great ladies try my dresses on. though it's the hardest part of mybusiness, and would be, even if my back were not bad and my legs queer.'he looked at her as not understanding what she said. 'bless you, godmother,' said miss wren, 'ihave to scud about town at all hours. if it was only sitting at my bench, cuttingout and sewing, it would be comparatively easy work; but it's the trying-on by thegreat ladies that takes it out of me.' 'how, the trying-on?' asked riah. 'what a mooney godmother you are, afterall!' returned miss wren.

'look here. there's a drawing room, or a grand day inthe park, or a show, or a fete, or what you like.very well. i squeeze among the crowd, and i look aboutme. when i see a great lady very suitable formy business, i say "you'll do, my dear!" and i take particular notice of her, andrun home and cut her out and baste her. then another day, i come scudding backagain to try on, and then i take particular notice of her again. sometimes she plainly seems to say, 'howthat little creature is staring!' and

sometimes likes it and sometimes don't, butmuch more often yes than no. all the time i am only saying to myself, "imust hollow out a bit here; i must slope away there;" and i am making a perfectslave of her, with making her try on my doll's dress. evening parties are severer work for me,because there's only a doorway for a full view, and what with hobbling among thewheels of the carriages and the legs of the horses, i fully expect to be run over somenight. however, there i have 'em, just the same. when they go bobbing into the hall from thecarriage, and catch a glimpse of my little

physiognomy poked out from behind apoliceman's cape in the rain, i dare say they think i am wondering and admiring with all my eyes and heart, but they littlethink they're only working for my dolls! there was lady belinda whitrose.i made her do double duty in one night. i said when she came out of the carriage,"you'll do, my dear!" and i ran straight home and cut her out and basted her.back i came again, and waited behind the men that called the carriages. very bad night too.at last, "lady belinda whitrose's carriage! lady belinda whitrose coming down!"and i made her try on--oh! and take pains

about it too--before she got seated. that's lady belinda hanging up by thewaist, much too near the gaslight for a wax one, with her toes turned in.' when they had plodded on for some time nighthe river, riah asked the way to a certain tavern called the six jolly fellowshipporters. following the directions he received, theyarrived, after two or three puzzled stoppages for consideration, and someuncertain looking about them, at the door of miss abbey potterson's dominions. a peep through the glass portion of thedoor revealed to them the glories of the

bar, and miss abbey herself seated in stateon her snug throne, reading the newspaper. to whom, with deference, they presentedthemselves. taking her eyes off her newspaper, andpausing with a suspended expression of countenance, as if she must finish theparagraph in hand before undertaking any other business whatever, miss abbey demanded, with some slight asperity: 'nowthen, what's for you?' 'could we see miss potterson?' asked theold man, uncovering his head. 'you not only could, but you can and youdo,' replied the hostess. 'might we speak with you, madam?'

by this time miss abbey's eyes hadpossessed themselves of the small figure of miss jenny wren. for the closer observation of which, missabbey laid aside her newspaper, rose, and looked over the half-door of the bar. the crutch-stick seemed to entreat for itsowner leave to come in and rest by the fire; so, miss abbey opened the half-door,and said, as though replying to the crutch- stick: 'yes, come in and rest by the fire.''my name is riah,' said the old man, with courteous action, 'and my avocation is inlondon city.

this, my young companion--' 'stop a bit,' interposed miss wren.'i'll give the lady my card.' she produced it from her pocket with anair, after struggling with the gigantic door-key which had got upon the top of itand kept it down. miss abbey, with manifest tokens ofastonishment, took the diminutive document, and found it to run concisely thus:--miss jenny wren dolls' dressmaker. dolls attended at their own residences.'lud!' exclaimed miss potterson, staring. and dropped the card.

'we take the liberty of coming, my youngcompanion and i, madam,' said riah, 'on behalf of lizzie hexam.'miss potterson was stooping to loosen the bonnet-strings of the dolls' dressmaker. she looked round rather angrily, and said:'lizzie hexam is a very proud young woman.' 'she would be so proud,' returned riah,dexterously, 'to stand well in your good opinion, that before she quitted londonfor--' 'for where, in the name of the cape of goodhope?' asked miss potterson, as though supposing her to have emigrated. 'for the country,' was the cautiousanswer,--'she made us promise to come and

show you a paper, which she left in ourhands for that special purpose. i am an unserviceable friend of hers, whobegan to know her after her departure from this neighbourhood. she has been for some time living with myyoung companion, and has been a helpful and a comfortable friend to her.much needed, madam,' he added, in a lower voice. 'believe me; if you knew all, much needed.''i can believe that,' said miss abbey, with a softening glance at the little creature. 'and if it's proud to have a heart thatnever hardens, and a temper that never

tires, and a touch that never hurts,' missjenny struck in, flushed, 'she is proud. and if it's not, she is not.' her set purpose of contradicting miss abbeypoint blank, was so far from offending that dread authority, as to elicit a gracioussmile. 'you do right, child,' said miss abbey, 'tospeak well of those who deserve well of you.' 'right or wrong,' muttered miss wren,inaudibly, with a visible hitch of her chin, 'i mean to do it, and you may make upyour mind to that, old lady.' 'here is the paper, madam,' said the jew,delivering into miss potterson's hands the

original document drawn up by rokesmith,and signed by riderhood. 'will you please to read it?' 'but first of all,' said miss abbey, '--didyou ever taste shrub, child?' miss wren shook her head.'should you like to?' 'should if it's good,' returned miss wren. 'you shall try.and, if you find it good, i'll mix some for you with hot water.put your poor little feet on the fender. it's a cold, cold night, and the fog clingsso.' as miss abbey helped her to turn her chair,her loosened bonnet dropped on the floor.

'why, what lovely hair!' cried miss abbey. 'and enough to make wigs for all the dollsin the world. what a quantity!''call that a quantity?' returned miss wren. 'poof! what do you say to the rest of it?'as she spoke, she untied a band, and the golden stream fell over herself and overthe chair, and flowed down to the ground. miss abbey's admiration seemed to increaseher perplexity. she beckoned the jew towards her, as shereached down the shrub-bottle from its niche, and whispered:

'child, or woman?''child in years,' was the answer; 'woman in self-reliance and trial.' 'you are talking about me, good people,'thought miss jenny, sitting in her golden bower, warming her feet.'i can't hear what you say, but i know your tricks and your manners!' the shrub, when tasted from a spoon,perfectly harmonizing with miss jenny's palate, a judicious amount was mixed bymiss potterson's skilful hands, whereof riah too partook. after this preliminary, miss abbey read thedocument; and, as often as she raised her

eyebrows in so doing, the watchful missjenny accompanied the action with an expressive and emphatic sip of the shruband water. 'as far as this goes,' said miss abbeypotterson, when she had read it several times, and thought about it, 'it proves(what didn't much need proving) that rogue riderhood is a villain. i have my doubts whether he is not thevillain who solely did the deed; but i have no expectation of those doubts ever beingcleared up now. i believe i did lizzie's father wrong, butnever lizzie's self; because when things were at the worst i trusted her, hadperfect confidence in her, and tried to

persuade her to come to me for a refuge. i am very sorry to have done a man wrong,particularly when it can't be undone. be kind enough to let lizzie know what isay; not forgetting that if she will come to the porters, after all, bygones beingbygones, she will find a home at the porters, and a friend at the porters. she knows miss abbey of old, remind her,and she knows what-like the home, and what- like the friend, is likely to turn out. i am generally short and sweet--or shortand sour, according as it may be and as opinions vary--' remarked miss abbey, 'andthat's about all i have got to say, and

enough too.' but before the shrub and water was sippedout, miss abbey bethought herself that she would like to keep a copy of the paper byher. 'it's not long, sir,' said she to riah,'and perhaps you wouldn't mind just jotting it down.' the old man willingly put on hisspectacles, and, standing at the little desk in the corner where miss abbey filedher receipts and kept her sample phials (customers' scores were interdicted by the strict administration of the porters),wrote out the copy in a fair round

character. as he stood there, doing his methodicalpenmanship, his ancient scribelike figure intent upon the work, and the little dolls'dressmaker sitting in her golden bower before the fire, miss abbey had her doubts whether she had not dreamed those two rarefigures into the bar of the six jolly fellowships, and might not wake with a nodnext moment and find them gone. miss abbey had twice made the experiment ofshutting her eyes and opening them again, still finding the figures there, when,dreamlike, a confused hubbub arose in the public room.

as she started up, and they all threelooked at one another, it became a noise of clamouring voices and of the stir of feet;then all the windows were heard to be hastily thrown up, and shouts and cries came floating into the house from theriver. a moment more, and bob gliddery cameclattering along the passage, with the noise of all the nails in his bootscondensed into every separate nail. 'what is it?' asked miss abbey. 'it's summut run down in the fog, ma'am,'answered bob. 'there's ever so many people in the river.''tell 'em to put on all the kettles!' cried

miss abbey. 'see that the boiler's full.get a bath out. hang some blankets to the fire.heat some stone bottles. have your senses about you, you girls downstairs, and use 'em.' while miss abbey partly delivered thesedirections to bob--whom she seized by the hair, and whose head she knocked againstthe wall, as a general injunction to vigilance and presence of mind--and partly hailed the kitchen with them--the companyin the public room, jostling one another, rushed out to the causeway, and the outernoise increased.

'come and look,' said miss abbey to hervisitors. they all three hurried to the vacatedpublic room, and passed by one of the windows into the wooden verandahoverhanging the river. 'does anybody down there know what hashappened?' demanded miss abbey, in her voice of authority.'it's a steamer, miss abbey,' cried one blurred figure in the fog. 'it always is a steamer, miss abbey,' criedanother. 'them's her lights, miss abbey, wot you seea-blinking yonder,' cried another. 'she's a-blowing off her steam, miss abbey,and that's what makes the fog and the noise

worse, don't you see?' explained another. boats were putting off, torches werelighting up, people were rushing tumultuously to the water's edge.some man fell in with a splash, and was pulled out again with a roar of laughter. the drags were called for.a cry for the life-buoy passed from mouth to mouth. it was impossible to make out what wasgoing on upon the river, for every boat that put off sculled into the fog and waslost to view at a boat's length. nothing was clear but that the unpopularsteamer was assailed with reproaches on all

sides. she was the murderer, bound for gallowsbay; she was the manslaughterer, bound for penal settlement; her captain ought to betried for his life; her crew ran down men in row-boats with a relish; she mashed up thames lightermen with her paddles; shefired property with her funnels; she always was, and she always would be, wreakingdestruction upon somebody or something, after the manner of all her kind. the whole bulk of the fog teemed with suchtaunts, uttered in tones of universal hoarseness.

all the while, the steamer's lights movedspectrally a very little, as she lay-to, waiting the upshot of whatever accident hadhappened. now, she began burning blue-lights. these made a luminous patch about her, asif she had set the fog on fire, and in the patch--the cries changing their note, andbecoming more fitful and more excited-- shadows of men and boats could be seenmoving, while voices shouted: 'there!' 'there again!''a couple more strokes a-head!' 'hurrah!' 'look out!''hold on!'

'haul in!' and the like. lastly, with a few tumbling clots of bluefire, the night closed in dark again, the wheels of the steamer were heard revolving,and her lights glided smoothly away in the direction of the sea. it appeared to miss abbey and her twocompanions that a considerable time had been thus occupied. there was now as eager a set towards theshore beneath the house as there had been from it; and it was only on the first boatof the rush coming in that it was known what had occurred.

'if that's tom tootle,' miss abbey madeproclamation, in her most commanding tones, 'let him instantly come underneath here.'the submissive tom complied, attended by a crowd. 'what is it, tootle?' demanded miss abbey.'it's a foreign steamer, miss, run down a wherry.''how many in the wherry?' 'one man, miss abbey.' 'found?''yes. he's been under water a long time, miss; but they've grappled up the body.''let 'em bring it here. you, bob gliddery, shut the house-door andstand by it on the inside, and don't you

open till i tell you.any police down there?' 'here, miss abbey,' was official rejoinder. 'after they have brought the body in, keepthe crowd out, will you? and help bob gliddery to shut 'em out.''all right, miss abbey.' the autocratic landlady withdrew into thehouse with riah and miss jenny, and disposed those forces, one on either sideof her, within the half-door of the bar, as behind a breastwork. 'you two stand close here,' said missabbey, 'and you'll come to no hurt, and see it brought in.bob, you stand by the door.'

that sentinel, smartly giving his rolledshirt-sleeves an extra and a final tuck on his shoulders, obeyed.sound of advancing voices, sound of advancing steps. shuffle and talk without.momentary pause. two peculiarly blunt knocks or pokes at thedoor, as if the dead man arriving on his back were striking at it with the soles ofhis motionless feet. 'that's the stretcher, or the shutter,whichever of the two they are carrying,' said miss abbey, with experienced ear.'open, you bob!' door opened.

heavy tread of laden men.a halt. a rush.stoppage of rush. door shut. baffled boots from the vexed souls ofdisappointed outsiders. 'come on, men!' said miss abbey; for sopotent was she with her subjects that even then the bearers awaited her permission. 'first floor.'the entry being low, and the staircase being low, they so took up the burden theyhad set down, as to carry that low. the recumbent figure, in passing, layhardly as high as the half door.

miss abbey started back at sight of it. 'why, good god!' said she, turning to hertwo companions, 'that's the very man who made the declaration we have just had inour hands. that's riderhood!' our mutual friend by charles dickenschapter 3 the same respected friend in more aspects than one in sooth, it is riderhood and no other, orit is the outer husk and shell of riderhood and no other, that is borne into missabbey's first-floor bedroom. supple to twist and turn as the rogue hasever been, he is sufficiently rigid now;

and not without much shuffling of attendantfeet, and tilting of his bier this way and that way, and peril even of his sliding off it and being tumbled in a heap over thebalustrades, can he be got up stairs. 'fetch a doctor,' quoth miss abbey.and then, 'fetch his daughter.' on both of which errands, quick messengersdepart. the doctor-seeking messenger meets thedoctor halfway, coming under convoy of police. doctor examines the dank carcase, andpronounces, not hopefully, that it is worth while trying to reanimate the same.

all the best means are at once in action,and everybody present lends a hand, and a heart and soul. no one has the least regard for the man;with them all, he has been an object of avoidance, suspicion, and aversion; but thespark of life within him is curiously separable from himself now, and they have a deep interest in it, probably because it islife, and they are living and must die. in answer to the doctor's inquiry how didit happen, and was anyone to blame, tom tootle gives in his verdict, unavoidableaccident and no one to blame but the sufferer.

'he was slinking about in his boat,' saystom, 'which slinking were, not to speak ill of the dead, the manner of the man, when hecome right athwart the steamer's bows and she cut him in two.' mr tootle is so far figurative, touchingthe dismemberment, as that he means the boat, and not the man.for, the man lies whole before them. captain joey, the bottle-nosed regularcustomer in the glazed hat, is a pupil of the much-respected old school, and (havinginsinuated himself into the chamber, in the execution of the important service of carrying the drowned man's neck-kerchief)favours the doctor with a sagacious old-

scholastic suggestion that the body shouldbe hung up by the heels, 'sim'lar', says captain joey, 'to mutton in a butcher's shop,' and should then, as a particularlychoice manoeuvre for promoting easy respiration, be rolled upon casks. these scraps of the wisdom of the captain'sancestors are received with such speechless indignation by miss abbey, that sheinstantly seizes the captain by the collar, and without a single word ejects him, notpresuming to remonstrate, from the scene. there then remain, to assist the doctor andtom, only those three other regular customers, bob glamour, william williams,and jonathan (family name of the latter, if

any, unknown to man-kind), who are quiteenough. miss abbey having looked in to make surethat nothing is wanted, descends to the bar, and there awaits the result, with thegentle jew and miss jenny wren. if you are not gone for good, mr riderhood,it would be something to know where you are hiding at present. this flabby lump of mortality that we workso hard at with such patient perseverance, yields no sign of you. if you are gone for good, rogue, it is verysolemn, and if you are coming back, it is hardly less so.

nay, in the suspense and mystery of thelatter question, involving that of where you may be now, there is a solemnity evenadded to that of death, making us who are in attendance alike afraid to look on you and to look off you, and making those belowstart at the least sound of a creaking plank in the floor.stay! did that eyelid tremble? so the doctor, breathing low, and closelywatching, asks himself. no.did that nostril twitch? no.

this artificial respiration ceasing, do ifeel any faint flutter under my hand upon the chest?no. over and over again no. no.but try over and over again, nevertheless. see!a token of life! an indubitable token of life! the spark may smoulder and go out, or itmay glow and expand, but see! the four rough fellows, seeing, shed tears. neither riderhood in this world, norriderhood in the other, could draw tears

from them; but a striving human soulbetween the two can do it easily. he is struggling to come back. now, he is almost here, now he is far awayagain. now he is struggling harder to get back. and yet--like us all, when we swoon--likeus all, every day of our lives when we wake--he is instinctively unwilling to berestored to the consciousness of this existence, and would be left dormant, if hecould. bob gliddery returns with pleasantriderhood, who was out when sought for, and hard to find.

she has a shawl over her head, and herfirst action, when she takes it off weeping, and curtseys to miss abbey, is towind her hair up. 'thank you, miss abbey, for having fatherhere.' 'i am bound to say, girl, i didn't know whoit was,' returns miss abbey; 'but i hope it would have been pretty much the same if ihad known.' poor pleasant, fortified with a sip ofbrandy, is ushered into the first-floor chamber. she could not express much sentiment abouther father if she were called upon to pronounce his funeral oration, but she hasa greater tenderness for him than he ever

had for her, and crying bitterly when she sees him stretched unconscious, asks thedoctor, with clasped hands: 'is there no hope, sir?o poor father! is poor father dead?' to which the doctor, on one knee beside thebody, busy and watchful, only rejoins without looking round: 'now, my girl,unless you have the self-command to be perfectly quiet, i cannot allow you toremain in the room.' pleasant, consequently, wipes her eyes withher back-hair, which is in fresh need of being wound up, and having got it out ofthe way, watches with terrified interest

all that goes on. her natural woman's aptitude soon rendersher able to give a little help. anticipating the doctor's want of this orthat, she quietly has it ready for him, and so by degrees is intrusted with the chargeof supporting her father's head upon her arm. it is something so new to pleasant to seeher father an object of sympathy and interest, to find any one very willing totolerate his society in this world, not to say pressingly and soothingly entreating him to belong to it, that it gives her asensation she never experienced before.

some hazy idea that if affairs could remainthus for a long time it would be a respectable change, floats in her mind. also some vague idea that the old evil isdrowned out of him, and that if he should happily come back to resume his occupationof the empty form that lies upon the bed, his spirit will be altered. in which state of mind she kisses the stonylips, and quite believes that the impassive hand she chafes will revive a tender hand,if it revive ever. sweet delusion for pleasant riderhood. but they minister to him with suchextraordinary interest, their anxiety is so

keen, their vigilance is so great, theirexcited joy grows so intense as the signs of life strengthen, that how can she resistit, poor thing! and now he begins to breathe naturally, andhe stirs, and the doctor declares him to have come back from that inexplicablejourney where he stopped on the dark road, and to be here. tom tootle, who is nearest to the doctorwhen he says this, grasps the doctor fervently by the hand. bob glamour, william williams, and jonathanof the no surname, all shake hands with one another round, and with the doctor too.

bob glamour blows his nose, and jonathan ofthe no surname is moved to do likewise, but lacking a pocket handkerchief abandons thatoutlet for his emotion. pleasant sheds tears deserving her ownname, and her sweet delusion is at its height.there is intelligence in his eyes. he wants to ask a question. he wonders where he is.tell him. 'father, you were run down on the river,and are at miss abbey potterson's.' he stares at his daughter, stares allaround him, closes his eyes, and lies slumbering on her arm.the short-lived delusion begins to fade.

the low, bad, unimpressible face is comingup from the depths of the river, or what other depths, to the surface again.as he grows warm, the doctor and the four men cool. as his lineaments soften with life, theirfaces and their hearts harden to him. 'he will do now,' says the doctor, washinghis hands, and looking at the patient with growing disfavour. 'many a better man,' moralizes tom tootlewith a gloomy shake of the head, 'ain't had his luck.' 'it's to be hoped he'll make a better useof his life,' says bob glamour, 'than i

expect he will.''or than he done afore,' adds william williams. 'but no, not he!' says jonathan of the nosurname, clinching the quartette. they speak in a low tone because of hisdaughter, but she sees that they have all drawn off, and that they stand in a groupat the other end of the room, shunning him. it would be too much to suspect them ofbeing sorry that he didn't die when he had done so much towards it, but they clearlywish that they had had a better subject to bestow their pains on. intelligence is conveyed to miss abbey inthe bar, who reappears on the scene, and

contemplates from a distance, holdingwhispered discourse with the doctor. the spark of life was deeply interestingwhile it was in abeyance, but now that it has got established in mr riderhood, thereappears to be a general desire that circumstances had admitted of its being developed in anybody else, rather than thatgentleman. 'however,' says miss abbey, cheering themup, 'you have done your duty like good and true men, and you had better come down andtake something at the expense of the porters.' this they all do, leaving the daughterwatching the father.

to whom, in their absence, bob glidderypresents himself. 'his gills looks rum; don't they?' saysbob, after inspecting the patient. pleasant faintly nods.'his gills'll look rummer when he wakes; won't they?' says bob. pleasant hopes not.why? 'when he finds himself here, you know,' bobexplains. 'cause miss abbey forbid him the house andordered him out of it. but what you may call the fates ordered himinto it again. which is rumness; ain't it?'

'he wouldn't have come here of his ownaccord,' returns poor pleasant, with an effort at a little pride.'no,' retorts bob. 'nor he wouldn't have been let in, if hehad.' the short delusion is quite dispelled now. as plainly as she sees on her arm the oldfather, unimproved, pleasant sees that everybody there will cut him when herecovers consciousness. 'i'll take him away ever so soon as i can,'thinks pleasant with a sigh; 'he's best at home.' presently they all return, and wait for himto become conscious that they will all be

glad to get rid of him. some clothes are got together for him towear, his own being saturated with water, and his present dress being composed ofblankets. becoming more and more uncomfortable, asthough the prevalent dislike were finding him out somewhere in his sleep andexpressing itself to him, the patient at last opens his eyes wide, and is assistedby his daughter to sit up in bed. 'well, riderhood,' says the doctor, 'how doyou feel?' he replies gruffly, 'nothing to boast on.' having, in fact, returned to life in anuncommonly sulky state.

'i don't mean to preach; but i hope,' saysthe doctor, gravely shaking his head, 'that this escape may have a good effect uponyou, riderhood.' the patient's discontented growl of a replyis not intelligible; his daughter, however, could interpret, if she would, that what hesays is, he 'don't want no poll-parroting'. mr riderhood next demands his shirt; anddraws it on over his head (with his daughter's help) exactly as if he had justhad a fight. 'warn't it a steamer?' he pauses to askher. 'yes, father.''i'll have the law on her, bust her! and make her pay for it.'

he then buttons his linen very moodily,twice or thrice stopping to examine his arms and hands, as if to see whatpunishment he has received in the fight. he then doggedly demands his othergarments, and slowly gets them on, with an appearance of great malevolence towards hislate opponent and all the spectators. he has an impression that his nose isbleeding, and several times draws the back of his hand across it, and looks for theresult, in a pugilistic manner, greatly strengthening that incongruous resemblance. 'where's my fur cap?' he asks in a surlyvoice, when he has shuffled his clothes on. 'in the river,' somebody rejoins.'and warn't there no honest man to pick it

up? o' course there was though, and to cut offwith it arterwards. you are a rare lot, all on you!' thus, mr riderhood: taking from the handsof his daughter, with special ill-will, a lent cap, and grumbling as he pulls it downover his ears. then, getting on his unsteady legs, leaningheavily upon her, and growling, 'hold still, can't you?what! you must be a staggering next, must you?'he takes his departure out of the ring in which he has had that little turn-up withdeath.

our mutual friend by charles dickenschapter 4 a happy return of the day mr and mrs wilfer had seen a full quarterof a hundred more anniversaries of their wedding day than mr and mrs lammle had seenof theirs, but they still celebrated the occasion in the bosom of their family. not that these celebrations ever resultedin anything particularly agreeable, or that the family was ever disappointed by thatcircumstance on account of having looked forward to the return of the auspicious daywith sanguine anticipations of enjoyment. it was kept morally, rather as a fast thana feast, enabling mrs wilfer to hold a

sombre darkling state, which exhibited thatimpressive woman in her choicest colours. the noble lady's condition on thesedelightful occasions was one compounded of heroic endurance and heroic forgiveness. lurid indications of the better marriagesshe might have made, shone athwart the awful gloom of her composure, and fitfullyrevealed the cherub as a little monster unaccountably favoured by heaven, who had possessed himself of a blessing for whichmany of his superiors had sued and contended in vain. so firmly had this his position towards histreasure become established, that when the

anniversary arrived, it always found him inan apologetic state. it is not impossible that his modestpenitence may have even gone the length of sometimes severely reproving him for thathe ever took the liberty of making so exalted a character his wife. as for the children of the union, theirexperience of these festivals had been sufficiently uncomfortable to lead themannually to wish, when out of their tenderest years, either that ma had married somebody else instead of much-teased pa, orthat pa had married somebody else instead of ma.

when there came to be but two sisters leftat home, the daring mind of bella on the next of these occasions scaled the heightof wondering with droll vexation 'what on earth pa ever could have seen in ma, to induce him to make such a little fool ofhimself as to ask her to have him.' the revolving year now bringing the dayround in its orderly sequence, bella arrived in the boffin chariot to assist atthe celebration. it was the family custom when the dayrecurred, to sacrifice a pair of fowls on the altar of hymen; and bella had sent anote beforehand, to intimate that she would bring the votive offering with her.

so, bella and the fowls, by the unitedenergies of two horses, two men, four wheels, and a plum-pudding carriage dogwith as uncomfortable a collar on as if he had been george the fourth, were depositedat the door of the parental dwelling. they were there received by mrs wilfer inperson, whose dignity on this, as on most special occasions, was heightened by amysterious toothache. 'i shall not require the carriage atnight,' said bella. 'i shall walk back.' the male domestic of mrs boffin touched hishat, and in the act of departure had an awful glare bestowed upon him by mrswilfer, intended to carry deep into his

audacious soul the assurance that, whatever his private suspicions might be, maledomestics in livery were no rarity there. 'well, dear ma,' said bella, 'and how doyou do?' 'i am as well, bella,' replied mrs wilfer,'as can be expected.' 'dear me, ma,' said bella; 'you talk as ifone was just born!' 'that's exactly what ma has been doing,'interposed lavvy, over the maternal shoulder, 'ever since we got up thismorning. it's all very well to laugh, bella, butanything more exasperating it is impossible to conceive.'

mrs wilfer, with a look too full of majestyto be accompanied by any words, attended both her daughters to the kitchen, wherethe sacrifice was to be prepared. 'mr rokesmith,' said she, resignedly, 'hasbeen so polite as to place his sitting-room at our disposal to-day. you will therefore, bella, be entertainedin the humble abode of your parents, so far in accordance with your present style ofliving, that there will be a drawing-room for your reception as well as a dining-room. your papa invited mr rokesmith to partakeof our lowly fare. in excusing himself on account of aparticular engagement, he offered the use

of his apartment.' bella happened to know that he had noengagement out of his own room at mr boffin's, but she approved of his stayingaway. 'we should only have put one another out ofcountenance,' she thought, 'and we do that quite often enough as it is.' yet she had sufficient curiosity about hisroom, to run up to it with the least possible delay, and make a close inspectionof its contents. it was tastefully though economicallyfurnished, and very neatly arranged. there were shelves and stands of books,english, french, and italian; and in a

portfolio on the writing-table there weresheets upon sheets of memoranda and calculations in figures, evidentlyreferring to the boffin property. on that table also, carefully backed withcanvas, varnished, mounted, and rolled like a map, was the placard descriptive of themurdered man who had come from afar to be her husband. she shrank from this ghostly surprise, andfelt quite frightened as she rolled and tied it up again. peeping about here and there, she came upona print, a graceful head of a pretty woman, elegantly framed, hanging in the corner bythe easy chair.

'oh, indeed, sir!' said bella, afterstopping to ruminate before it. 'oh, indeed, sir!i fancy i can guess whom you think that's like. but i'll tell you what it's much more like--your impudence!' having said which she decamped: not solelybecause she was offended, but because there was nothing else to look at. 'now, ma,' said bella, reappearing in thekitchen with some remains of a blush, 'you and lavvy think magnificent me fit fornothing, but i intend to prove the contrary.

i mean to be cook today.''hold!' rejoined her majestic mother. 'i cannot permit it.cook, in that dress!' 'as for my dress, ma,' returned bella,merrily searching in a dresser-drawer, 'i mean to apron it and towel it all over thefront; and as to permission, i mean to do without.' 'you cook?' said mrs wilfer.'you, who never cooked when you were at home?''yes, ma,' returned bella; 'that is precisely the state of the case.' she girded herself with a white apron, andbusily with knots and pins contrived a bib

to it, coming close and tight under herchin, as if it had caught her round the neck to kiss her. over this bib her dimples lookeddelightful, and under it her pretty figure not less so. 'now, ma,' said bella, pushing back herhair from her temples with both hands, 'what's first?' 'first,' returned mrs wilfer solemnly, 'ifyou persist in what i cannot but regard as conduct utterly incompatible with theequipage in which you arrived--' ('which i do, ma.')

'first, then, you put the fowls down to thefire.' 'to--be--sure!' cried bella; 'and flourthem, and twirl them round, and there they go!' sending them spinning at a great rate. 'what's next, ma?' 'next,' said mrs wilfer with a wave of hergloves, expressive of abdication under protest from the culinary throne, 'i wouldrecommend examination of the bacon in the saucepan on the fire, and also of thepotatoes by the application of a fork. preparation of the greens will furtherbecome necessary if you persist in this unseemly demeanour.'

'as of course i do, ma.' persisting, bella gave her attention to onething and forgot the other, and gave her attention to the other and forgot thethird, and remembering the third was distracted by the fourth, and made amends whenever she went wrong by giving theunfortunate fowls an extra spin, which made their chance of ever getting cookedexceedingly doubtful. but it was pleasant cookery too. meantime miss lavinia, oscillating betweenthe kitchen and the opposite room, prepared the dining-table in the latter chamber.

this office she (always doing her householdspiriting with unwillingness) performed in a startling series of whisks and bumps;laying the table-cloth as if she were raising the wind, putting down the glasses and salt-cellars as if she were knocking atthe door, and clashing the knives and forks in a skirmishing manner suggestive of hand-to-hand conflict. 'look at ma,' whispered lavinia to bellawhen this was done, and they stood over the roasting fowls. 'if one was the most dutiful child inexistence (of course on the whole one hopes one is), isn't she enough to make one wantto poke her with something wooden, sitting

there bolt upright in a corner?' 'only suppose,' returned bella, 'that poorpa was to sit bolt upright in another corner.''my dear, he couldn't do it,' said lavvy. 'pa would loll directly. but indeed i do not believe there ever wasany human creature who could keep so bolt upright as ma, 'or put such an amount ofaggravation into one back! what's the matter, ma? ain't you well, ma?''doubtless i am very well,' returned mrs wilfer, turning her eyes upon her youngestborn, with scornful fortitude.

'what should be the matter with me?' 'you don't seem very brisk, ma,' retortedlavvy the bold. 'brisk?' repeated her parent, 'brisk?whence the low expression, lavinia? if i am uncomplaining, if i am silentlycontented with my lot, let that suffice for my family.' 'well, ma,' returned lavvy, 'since you willforce it out of me, i must respectfully take leave to say that your family are nodoubt under the greatest obligations to you for having an annual toothache on your wedding day, and that it's verydisinterested in you, and an immense

blessing to them.still, on the whole, it is possible to be too boastful even of that boon.' 'you incarnation of sauciness,' said mrswilfer, 'do you speak like that to me? on this day, of all days in the year? pray do you know what would have become ofyou, if i had not bestowed my hand upon r. w., your father, on this day?' 'no, ma,' replied lavvy, 'i really do not;and, with the greatest respect for your abilities and information, i very muchdoubt if you do either.' whether or no the sharp vigour of thissally on a weak point of mrs wilfer's

entrenchments might have routed thatheroine for the time, is rendered uncertain by the arrival of a flag of truce in the person of mr george sampson: bidden to thefeast as a friend of the family, whose affections were now understood to be incourse of transference from bella to lavinia, and whom lavinia kept--possibly in remembrance of his bad taste in havingoverlooked her in the first instance--under a course of stinging discipline. 'i congratulate you, mrs wilfer,' said mrgeorge sampson, who had meditated this neat address while coming along, 'on the day.'

mrs wilfer thanked him with a magnanimoussigh, and again became an unresisting prey to that inscrutable toothache.'i am surprised,' said mr sampson feebly, 'that miss bella condescends to cook.' here miss lavinia descended on the ill-starred young gentleman with a crushing supposition that at all events it was nobusiness of his. this disposed of mr sampson in a melancholyretirement of spirit, until the cherub arrived, whose amazement at the lovelywoman's occupation was great. however, she persisted in dishing thedinner as well as cooking it, and then sat down, bibless and apronless, to partake ofit as an illustrious guest: mrs wilfer

first responding to her husband's cheerful 'for what we are about to receive--'with asepulchral amen, calculated to cast a damp upon the stoutest appetite. 'but what,' said bella, as she watched thecarving of the fowls, 'makes them pink inside, i wonder, pa!is it the breed?' 'no, i don't think it's the breed, mydear,' returned pa. 'i rather think it is because they are notdone.' 'they ought to be,' said bella. 'yes, i am aware they ought to be, mydear,' rejoined her father, 'but they--

ain't.' so, the gridiron was put in requisition,and the good-tempered cherub, who was often as un-cherubically employed in his ownfamily as if he had been in the employment of some of the old masters, undertook togrill the fowls. indeed, except in respect of staring abouthim (a branch of the public service to which the pictorial cherub is muchaddicted), this domestic cherub discharged as many odd functions as his prototype; with the difference, say, that he performedwith a blacking-brush on the family's boots, instead of performing on enormouswind instruments and double-basses, and

that he conducted himself with cheerful alacrity to much useful purpose, instead offoreshortening himself in the air with the vaguest intentions. bella helped him with his supplementalcookery, and made him very happy, but put him in mortal terror too by asking him whenthey sat down at table again, how he supposed they cooked fowls at the greenwich dinners, and whether he believed theyreally were such pleasant dinners as people said? his secret winks and nods of remonstrance,in reply, made the mischievous bella laugh

until she choked, and then lavinia wasobliged to slap her on the back, and then she laughed the more. but her mother was a fine corrective at theother end of the table; to whom her father, in the innocence of his good-fellowship, atintervals appealed with: 'my dear, i am afraid you are not enjoying yourself?' 'why so, r. w.?' she would sonorouslyreply. 'because, my dear, you seem a little out ofsorts.' 'not at all,' would be the rejoinder, inexactly the same tone. 'would you take a merry-thought, my dear?''thank you.

i will take whatever you please, r. w.' 'well, but my dear, do you like it?''i like it as well as i like anything, r. w.' the stately woman would then, with ameritorious appearance of devoting herself to the general good, pursue her dinner asif she were feeding somebody else on high public grounds. bella had brought dessert and two bottlesof wine, thus shedding unprecedented splendour on the occasion. mrs wilfer did the honours of the firstglass by proclaiming: 'r. w. i drink to

you.'thank you, my dear. and i to you.' 'pa and ma!' said bella.'permit me,' mrs wilfer interposed, with outstretched glove.'no. i think not. i drank to your papa. if, however, you insist on including me, ican in gratitude offer no objection.' 'why, lor, ma,' interposed lavvy the bold,'isn't it the day that made you and pa one and the same? i have no patience!''by whatever other circumstance the day may

be marked, it is not the day, lavinia, onwhich i will allow a child of mine to pounce upon me. i beg--nay, command!--that you will notpounce. r. w., it is appropriate to recall that itis for you to command and for me to obey. it is your house, and you are master atyour own table. both our healths!'drinking the toast with tremendous stiffness. 'i really am a little afraid, my dear,'hinted the cherub meekly, 'that you are not enjoying yourself?''on the contrary,' returned mrs wilfer,

'quite so. why should i not?''i thought, my dear, that perhaps your face might--' 'my face might be a martyrdom, but whatwould that import, or who should know it, if i smiled?'and she did smile; manifestly freezing the blood of mr george sampson by so doing. for that young gentleman, catching hersmiling eye, was so very much appalled by its expression as to cast about in histhoughts concerning what he had done to bring it down upon himself.

'the mind naturally falls,' said mrswilfer, 'shall i say into a reverie, or shall i say into a retrospect? on a daylike this.' lavvy, sitting with defiantly folded arms,replied (but not audibly), 'for goodness' sake say whichever of the two you likebest, ma, and get it over.' 'the mind,' pursued mrs wilfer in anoratorical manner, 'naturally reverts to papa and mamma--i here allude to myparents--at a period before the earliest dawn of this day. i was considered tall; perhaps i was.papa and mamma were unquestionably tall. i have rarely seen a finer women than mymother; never than my father.'

the irrepressible lavvy remarked aloud,'whatever grandpapa was, he wasn't a female.' 'your grandpapa,' retorted mrs wilfer, withan awful look, and in an awful tone, 'was what i describe him to have been, and wouldhave struck any of his grandchildren to the earth who presumed to question it. it was one of mamma's cherished hopes thati should become united to a tall member of society. it may have been a weakness, but if so, itwas equally the weakness, i believe, of king frederick of prussia.'

these remarks being offered to mr georgesampson, who had not the courage to come out for single combat, but lurked with hischest under the table and his eyes cast down, mrs wilfer proceeded, in a voice of increasing sternness and impressiveness,until she should force that skulker to give himself up. 'mamma would appear to have had anindefinable foreboding of what afterwards happened, for she would frequently urgeupon me, "not a little man. promise me, my child, not a little man. never, never, never, marry a little man!"papa also would remark to me (he possessed

extraordinary humour), "that a family ofwhales must not ally themselves with sprats." his company was eagerly sought, as may besupposed, by the wits of the day, and our house was their continual resort. i have known as many as three copper-plateengravers exchanging the most exquisite sallies and retorts there, at one time.' (here mr sampson delivered himself captive,and said, with an uneasy movement on his chair, that three was a large number, andit must have been highly entertaining.) 'among the most prominent members of thatdistinguished circle, was a gentleman

measuring six feet four in height.he was not an engraver.' (here mr sampson said, with no reasonwhatever, of course not.) 'this gentleman was so obliging as tohonour me with attentions which i could not fail to understand.' (here mr sampson murmured that when it cameto that, you could always tell.) 'i immediately announced to both my parentsthat those attentions were misplaced, and that i could not favour his suit. they inquired was he too tall?i replied it was not the stature, but the intellect was too lofty.

at our house, i said, the tone was toobrilliant, the pressure was too high, to be maintained by me, a mere woman, in every-day domestic life. i well remember mamma's clasping her hands,and exclaiming "this will end in a little man!"'(here mr sampson glanced at his host and shook his head with despondency.) 'she afterwards went so far as to predictthat it would end in a little man whose mind would be below the average, but thatwas in what i may denominate a paroxysm of maternal disappointment. within a month,' said mrs wilfer, deepeningher voice, as if she were relating a

terrible ghost story, 'within a-month, ifirst saw r. w. my husband. within a year, i married him. it is natural for the mind to recall thesedark coincidences on the present day.' mr sampson at length released from thecustody of mrs wilfer's eye, now drew a long breath, and made the original andstriking remark that there was no accounting for these sort of presentiments. r. w. scratched his head and lookedapologetically all round the table until he came to his wife, when observing her as itwere shrouded in a more sombre veil than before, he once more hinted, 'my dear, i am

really afraid you are not altogetherenjoying yourself?' to which she once more replied, 'on thecontrary, r. w. quite so.' the wretched mr sampson's position at thisagreeable entertainment was truly pitiable. for, not only was he exposed defenceless tothe harangues of mrs wilfer, but he received the utmost contumely at the handsof lavinia; who, partly to show bella that she (lavinia) could do what she liked with him, and partly to pay him off for stillobviously admiring bella's beauty, led him the life of a dog. illuminated on the one hand by the statelygraces of mrs wilfer's oratory, and

shadowed on the other by the checks andfrowns of the young lady to whom he had devoted himself in his destitution, the sufferings of this young gentleman weredistressing to witness. if his mind for the moment reeled underthem, it may be urged, in extenuation of its weakness, that it was constitutionallya knock-knee'd mind and never very strong upon its legs. the rosy hours were thus beguiled until itwas time for bella to have pa's escort back. the dimples duly tied up in the bonnet-strings and the leave-taking done, they got

out into the air, and the cherub drew along breath as if he found it refreshing. 'well, dear pa,' said bella, 'theanniversary may be considered over.' 'yes, my dear,' returned the cherub,'there's another of 'em gone.' bella drew his arm closer through hers asthey walked along, and gave it a number of consolatory pats.'thank you, my dear,' he said, as if she had spoken; 'i am all right, my dear. well, and how do you get on, bella?''i am not at all improved, pa.' 'ain't you really though?''no, pa. on the contrary, i am worse.' 'lor!' said the cherub.

'i am worse, pa.i make so many calculations how much a year i must have when i marry, and what is theleast i can manage to do with, that i am beginning to get wrinkles over my nose. did you notice any wrinkles over my nosethis evening, pa?' pa laughing at this, bella gave him two orthree shakes. 'you won't laugh, sir, when you see yourlovely woman turning haggard. you had better be prepared in time, i cantell you. i shall not be able to keep my greedinessfor money out of my eyes long, and when you see it there you'll be sorry, and serve youright for not being warned in time.

now, sir, we entered into a bond ofconfidence. have you anything to impart?''i thought it was you who was to impart, my love.' 'oh! did you indeed, sir?then why didn't you ask me, the moment we came out?the confidences of lovely women are not to be slighted. however, i forgive you this once, and lookhere, pa; that's'--bella laid the little forefinger of her right glove on her lip,and then laid it on her father's lip-- 'that's a kiss for you.

and now i am going seriously to tell you--let me see how many--four secrets. mind!serious, grave, weighty secrets. strictly between ourselves.' 'number one, my dear?' said her father,settling her arm comfortably and confidentially.'number one,' said bella, 'will electrify you, pa. who do you think has'--she was confusedhere in spite of her merry way of beginning 'has made an offer to me?' pa looked in her face, and looked at theground, and looked in her face again, and

declared he could never guess.'mr rokesmith.' 'you don't tell me so, my dear!' 'mis--ter roke--smith, pa,' said bellaseparating the syllables for emphasis. 'what do you say to that?' pa answered quietly with the counter-question, 'what did you say to that, my love?''i said no,' returned bella sharply. 'of course.' 'yes. of course,' said her father,meditating. 'and i told him why i thought it a betrayalof trust on his part, and an affront to

me,' said bella. 'yes. to be sure.i am astonished indeed. i wonder he committed himself withoutseeing more of his way first. now i think of it, i suspect he always hasadmired you though, my dear.' 'a hackney coachman may admire me,'remarked bella, with a touch of her mother's loftiness. 'it's highly probable, my love.number two, my dear?' 'number two, pa, is much to the samepurpose, though not so preposterous. mr lightwood would propose to me, if iwould let him.'

'then i understand, my dear, that you don'tintend to let him?' bella again saying, with her formeremphasis, 'why, of course not!' her father felt himself bound to echo, 'of coursenot.' 'i don't care for him,' said bella. 'that's enough,' her father interposed.'no, pa, it's not enough,' rejoined bella, giving him another shake or two.'haven't i told you what a mercenary little wretch i am? it only becomes enough when he has nomoney, and no clients, and no expectations, and no anything but debts.''hah!' said the cherub, a little depressed.

'number three, my dear?' 'number three, pa, is a better thing.a generous thing, a noble thing, a delightful thing. mrs boffin has herself told me, as asecret, with her own kind lips--and truer lips never opened or closed in this life, iam sure--that they wish to see me well married; and that when i marry with their consent they will portion me mosthandsomely.' here the grateful girl burst out cryingvery heartily. 'don't cry, my darling,' said her father,with his hand to his eyes; 'it's excusable

in me to be a little overcome when i findthat my dear favourite child is, after all disappointments, to be so provided for and so raised in the world; but don't you cry,don't you cry. i am very thankful.i congratulate you with all my heart, my dear.' the good soft little fellow, drying hiseyes, here, bella put her arms round his neck and tenderly kissed him on the highroad, passionately telling him he was the best of fathers and the best of friends, and that on her wedding-morning she wouldgo down on her knees to him and beg his

pardon for having ever teased him or seemedinsensible to the worth of such a patient, sympathetic, genial, fresh young heart. at every one of her adjectives sheredoubled her kisses, and finally kissed his hat off, and then laughed immoderatelywhen the wind took it and he ran after it. when he had recovered his hat and hisbreath, and they were going on again once more, said her father then: 'number four,my dear?' bella's countenance fell in the midst ofher mirth. 'after all, perhaps i had better put offnumber four, pa. let me try once more, if for never so shorta time, to hope that it may not really be

so.' the change in her, strengthened thecherub's interest in number four, and he said quietly: 'may not be so, my dear?may not be how, my dear?' bella looked at him pensively, and shookher head. 'and yet i know right well it is so, pa.i know it only too well.' 'my love,' returned her father, 'you makeme quite uncomfortable. have you said no to anybody else, my dear?''no, pa.' 'yes to anybody?' he suggested, lifting uphis eyebrows. 'no, pa.'

'is there anybody else who would take hischance between yes and no, if you would let him, my dear?''not that i know of, pa.' 'there can't be somebody who won't take hischance when you want him to?' said the cherub, as a last resource.'why, of course not, pa, said bella, giving him another shake or two. 'no, of course not,' he assented.'bella, my dear, i am afraid i must either have no sleep to-night, or i must press fornumber four.' 'oh, pa, there is no good in number four! i am so sorry for it, i am so unwilling tobelieve it, i have tried so earnestly not

to see it, that it is very hard to tell,even to you. but mr boffin is being spoilt byprosperity, and is changing every day.' 'my dear bella, i hope and trust not.' 'i have hoped and trusted not too, pa; butevery day he changes for the worse, and for the worse.not to me--he is always much the same to me--but to others about him. before my eyes he grows suspicious,capricious, hard, tyrannical, unjust. if ever a good man were ruined by goodfortune, it is my benefactor. and yet, pa, think how terrible thefascination of money is!

i see this, and hate this, and dread this,and don't know but that money might make a much worse change in me. and yet i have money always in my thoughtsand my desires; and the whole life i place before myself is money, money, money, andwhat money can make of life!' our mutual friend by charles dickenschapter 5 the golden dustman falls into bad company were bella wilfer's bright and ready littlewits at fault, or was the golden dustman passing through the furnace of proof andcoming out dross? ill news travels fast.

we shall know full soon.on that very night of her return from the happy return, something chanced which bellaclosely followed with her eyes and ears. there was an apartment at the side of theboffin mansion, known as mr boffin's room. far less grand than the rest of the house,it was far more comfortable, being pervaded by a certain air of homely snugness, whichupholstering despotism had banished to that spot when it inexorably set its face against mr boffin's appeals for mercy inbehalf of any other chamber. thus, although a room of modest situation--for its windows gave on silas wegg's old corner--and of no pretensions to velvet,satin, or gilding, it had got itself

established in a domestic position analogous to that of an easy dressing-gownor pair of slippers; and whenever the family wanted to enjoy a particularlypleasant fireside evening, they enjoyed it, as an institution that must be, in mrboffin's room. mr and mrs boffin were reported sitting inthis room, when bella got back. entering it, she found the secretary theretoo; in official attendance it would appear, for he was standing with somepapers in his hand by a table with shaded candles on it, at which mr boffin wasseated thrown back in his easy chair. 'you are busy, sir,' said bella, hesitatingat the door.

'not at all, my dear, not at all. you're one of ourselves.we never make company of you. come in, come in.here's the old lady in her usual place.' mrs boffin adding her nod and smile ofwelcome to mr boffin's words, bella took her book to a chair in the fireside corner,by mrs boffin's work-table. mr boffin's station was on the oppositeside. 'now, rokesmith,' said the golden dustman,so sharply rapping the table to bespeak his attention as bella turned the leaves of herbook, that she started; 'where were we?' 'you were saying, sir,' returned thesecretary, with an air of some reluctance

and a glance towards those others who werepresent, 'that you considered the time had come for fixing my salary.' 'don't be above calling it wages, man,'said mr boffin, testily. 'what the deuce!i never talked of any salary when i was in service.' 'my wages,' said the secretary, correctinghimself. 'rokesmith, you are not proud, i hope?'observed mr boffin, eyeing him askance. 'i hope not, sir.' 'because i never was, when i was poor,'said mr boffin.

'poverty and pride don't go at all welltogether. mind that. how can they go well together?why it stands to reason. a man, being poor, has nothing to be proudof. it's nonsense.' with a slight inclination of his head, anda look of some surprise, the secretary seemed to assent by forming the syllablesof the word 'nonsense' on his lips. 'now, concerning these same wages,' said mrboffin. 'sit down.'the secretary sat down.

'why didn't you sit down before?' asked mrboffin, distrustfully. 'i hope that wasn't pride?but about these wages. now, i've gone into the matter, and i saytwo hundred a year. what do you think of it?do you think it's enough?' 'thank you. it is a fair proposal.''i don't say, you know,' mr boffin stipulated, 'but what it may be more thanenough. and i'll tell you why, rokesmith. a man of property, like me, is bound toconsider the market-price.

at first i didn't enter into that as muchas i might have done; but i've got acquainted with other men of propertysince, and i've got acquainted with the duties of property. i mustn't go putting the market-price up,because money may happen not to be an object with me.a sheep is worth so much in the market, and i ought to give it and no more. a secretary is worth so much in the market,and i ought to give it and no more. however, i don't mind stretching a pointwith you.' 'mr boffin, you are very good,' replied thesecretary, with an effort.

'then we put the figure,' said mr boffin,'at two hundred a year. then the figure's disposed of. now, there must be no misunderstandingregarding what i buy for two hundred a year.if i pay for a sheep, i buy it out and out. similarly, if i pay for a secretary, i buyhim out and out.' 'in other words, you purchase my wholetime?' 'certainly i do. look here,' said mr boffin, 'it ain't thati want to occupy your whole time; you can take up a book for a minute or two whenyou've nothing better to do, though i think

you'll a'most always find something usefulto do. but i want to keep you in attendance.it's convenient to have you at all times ready on the premises. therefore, betwixt your breakfast and yoursupper,--on the premises i expect to find you.'the secretary bowed. 'in bygone days, when i was in servicemyself,' said mr boffin, 'i couldn't go cutting about at my will and pleasure, andyou won't expect to go cutting about at your will and pleasure. you've rather got into a habit of that,lately; but perhaps it was for want of a

right specification betwixt us.now, let there be a right specification betwixt us, and let it be this. if you want leave, ask for it.'again the secretary bowed. his manner was uneasy and astonished, andshowed a sense of humiliation. 'i'll have a bell,' said mr boffin, 'hungfrom this room to yours, and when i want you, i'll touch it.i don't call to mind that i have anything more to say at the present moment.' the secretary rose, gathered up his papers,and withdrew. bella's eyes followed him to the door,lighted on mr boffin complacently thrown

back in his easy chair, and drooped overher book. 'i have let that chap, that young man ofmine,' said mr boffin, taking a trot up and down the room, get above his work.it won't do. i must have him down a peg. a man of property owes a duty to other menof property, and must look sharp after his inferiors.' bella felt that mrs boffin was notcomfortable, and that the eyes of that good creature sought to discover from her facewhat attention she had given to this discourse, and what impression it had madeupon her.

for which reason bella's eyes drooped moreengrossedly over her book, and she turned the page with an air of profound absorptionin it. 'noddy,' said mrs boffin, afterthoughtfully pausing in her work. 'my dear,' returned the golden dustman,stopping short in his trot. 'excuse my putting it to you, noddy, butnow really! haven't you been a little strict with mrrokesmith to-night? haven't you been a little--just a littlelittle--not quite like your old self?' 'why, old woman, i hope so,' returned mrboffin, cheerfully, if not boastfully. 'hope so, deary?'

'our old selves wouldn't do here, old lady.haven't you found that out yet? our old selves would be fit for nothinghere but to be robbed and imposed upon. our old selves weren't people of fortune;our new selves are; it's a great difference.' 'ah!' said mrs boffin, pausing in her workagain, softly to draw a long breath and to look at the fire.'a great difference.' 'and we must be up to the difference,'pursued her husband; 'we must be equal to the change; that's what we must be. we've got to hold our own now, againsteverybody (for everybody's hand is

stretched out to be dipped into ourpockets), and we have got to recollect that money makes money, as well as makeseverything else.' 'mentioning recollecting,' said mrs boffin,with her work abandoned, her eyes upon the fire, and her chin upon her hand, 'do yourecollect, noddy, how you said to mr rokesmith when he first came to see us at the bower, and you engaged him--how yousaid to him that if it had pleased heaven to send john harmon to his fortune safe, wecould have been content with the one mound which was our legacy, and should never havewanted the rest?' 'ay, i remember, old lady.but we hadn't tried what it was to have the

rest then. our new shoes had come home, but we hadn'tput 'em on. we're wearing 'em now, we're wearing 'em,and must step out accordingly.' mrs boffin took up her work again, andplied her needle in silence. 'as to rokesmith, that young man of mine,'said mr boffin, dropping his voice and glancing towards the door with anapprehension of being overheard by some eavesdropper there, 'it's the same with himas with the footmen. i have found out that you must eitherscrunch them, or let them scrunch you. if you ain't imperious with 'em, they won'tbelieve in your being any better than

themselves, if as good, after the stories(lies mostly) that they have heard of your beginnings. there's nothing betwixt stiffening yourselfup, and throwing yourself away; take my word for that, old lady.' bella ventured for a moment to lookstealthily towards him under her eyelashes, and she saw a dark cloud of suspicion,covetousness, and conceit, overshadowing the once open face. 'hows'ever,' said he, 'this isn'tentertaining to miss bella. is it, bella?'

a deceiving bella she was, to look at himwith that pensively abstracted air, as if her mind were full of her book, and she hadnot heard a single word! 'hah! better employed than to attend toit,' said mr boffin. 'that's right, that's right.especially as you have no call to be told how to value yourself, my dear.' colouring a little under this compliment,bella returned, 'i hope sir, you don't think me vain?''not a bit, my dear,' said mr boffin. 'but i think it's very creditable in you,at your age, to be so well up with the pace of the world, and to know what to go infor.

you are right. go in for money, my love.money's the article. you'll make money of your good looks, andof the money mrs boffin and me will have the pleasure of settling upon you, andyou'll live and die rich. that's the state to live and die in!' saidmr boffin, in an unctuous manner. r--r--rich!' there was an expression of distress in mrsboffin's face, as, after watching her husband's, she turned to their adoptedgirl, and said: 'don't mind him, bella, my dear.'

'eh?' cried mr boffin.'what! not mind him?' 'i don't mean that,' said mrs boffin, witha worried look, 'but i mean, don't believe him to be anything but good and generous,bella, because he is the best of men. no, i must say that much, noddy. you are always the best of men.'she made the declaration as if he were objecting to it: which assuredly he was notin any way. 'and as to you, my dear bella,' said mrsboffin, still with that distressed expression, 'he is so much attached to you,whatever he says, that your own father has

not a truer interest in you and can hardlylike you better than he does.' 'says too!' cried mr boffin.'whatever he says! why, i say so, openly. give me a kiss, my dear child, in sayinggood night, and let me confirm what my old lady tells you. i am very fond of you, my dear, and i amentirely of your mind, and you and i will take care that you shall be rich. these good looks of yours (which you havesome right to be vain of; my dear, though you are not, you know) are worth money, andyou shall make money of 'em.

the money you will have, will be worthmoney, and you shall make money of that too.there's a golden ball at your feet. good night, my dear.' somehow, bella was not so well pleased withthis assurance and this prospect as she might have been. somehow, when she put her arms round mrsboffin's neck and said good night, she derived a sense of unworthiness from thestill anxious face of that good woman and her obvious wish to excuse her husband. 'why, what need to excuse him?' thoughtbella, sitting down in her own room.

'what he said was very sensible, i am sure,and very true, i am sure. it is only what i often say to myself. don't i like it then?no, i don't like it, and, though he is my liberal benefactor, i disparage him for it. then pray,' said bella, sternly putting thequestion to herself in the looking-glass as usual, 'what do you mean by this, youinconsistent little beast?' the looking-glass preserving a discreetministerial silence when thus called upon for explanation, bella went to bed with aweariness upon her spirit which was more than the weariness of want of sleep.

and again in the morning, she looked forthe cloud, and for the deepening of the cloud, upon the golden dustman's face. she had begun by this time to be hisfrequent companion in his morning strolls about the streets, and it was at this timethat he made her a party to his engaging in a curious pursuit. having been hard at work in one dullenclosure all his life, he had a child's delight in looking at shops. it had been one of the first novelties andpleasures of his freedom, and was equally the delight of his wife.

for many years their only walks in londonhad been taken on sundays when the shops were shut; and when every day in the weekbecame their holiday, they derived an enjoyment from the variety and fancy and beauty of the display in the windows, whichseemed incapable of exhaustion. as if the principal streets were a greattheatre and the play were childishly new to them, mr and mrs boffin, from the beginningof bella's intimacy in their house, had been constantly in the front row, charmed with all they saw and applaudingvigorously. but now, mr boffin's interest began tocentre in book-shops; and more than that--

for that of itself would not have beenmuch--in one exceptional kind of book. 'look in here, my dear,' mr boffin wouldsay, checking bella's arm at a bookseller's window; 'you can read at sight, and youreyes are as sharp as they're bright. now, look well about you, my dear, and tellme if you see any book about a miser.' if bella saw such a book, mr boffin wouldinstantly dart in and buy it. and still, as if they had not found it,they would seek out another book-shop, and mr boffin would say, 'now, look well allround, my dear, for a life of a miser, or any book of that sort; any lives of oddcharacters who may have been misers.' bella, thus directed, would examine thewindow with the greatest attention, while

mr boffin would examine her face. the moment she pointed out any book asbeing entitled lives of eccentric personages, anecdotes of strangecharacters, records of remarkable individuals, or anything to that purpose, mr boffin's countenance would light up, andhe would instantly dart in and buy it. size, price, quality, were of no account. any book that seemed to promise a chance ofmiserly biography, mr boffin purchased without a moment's delay and carried home. happening to be informed by a booksellerthat a portion of the annual register was

devoted to 'characters', mr boffin at oncebought a whole set of that ingenious compilation, and began to carry it home piecemeal, confiding a volume to bella, andbearing three himself. the completion of this labour occupied themabout a fortnight. when the task was done, mr boffin, with hisappetite for misers whetted instead of satiated, began to look out again. it very soon became unnecessary to tellbella what to look for, and an understanding was established between herand mr boffin that she was always to look for lives of misers.

morning after morning they roamed about thetown together, pursuing this singular research. miserly literature not being abundant, theproportion of failures to successes may have been as a hundred to one; still mrboffin, never wearied, remained as avaricious for misers as he had been at thefirst onset. it was curious that bella never saw thebooks about the house, nor did she ever hear from mr boffin one word of referenceto their contents. he seemed to save up his misers as they hadsaved up their money. as they had been greedy for it, and secretabout it, and had hidden it, so he was

greedy for them, and secret about them, andhid them. but beyond all doubt it was to be noticed,and was by bella very clearly noticed, that, as he pursued the acquisition ofthose dismal records with the ardour of don quixote for his books of chivalry, he began to spend his money with a more sparinghand. and often when he came out of a shop withsome new account of one of those wretched lunatics, she would almost shrink from thesly dry chuckle with which he would take her arm again and trot away. it did not appear that mrs boffin knew ofthis taste.

he made no allusion to it, except in themorning walks when he and bella were always alone; and bella, partly under theimpression that he took her into his confidence by implication, and partly in remembrance of mrs boffin's anxious facethat night, held the same reserve. while these occurrences were in progress,mrs lammle made the discovery that bella had a fascinating influence over her. the lammles, originally presented by thedear veneerings, visited the boffins on all grand occasions, and mrs lammle had notpreviously found this out; but now the knowledge came upon her all at once.

it was a most extraordinary thing (she saidto mrs boffin); she was foolishly susceptible of the power of beauty, but itwasn't altogether that; she never had been able to resist a natural grace of manner, but it wasn't altogether that; it was morethan that, and there was no name for the indescribable extent and degree to whichshe was captivated by this charming girl. this charming girl having the wordsrepeated to her by mrs boffin (who was proud of her being admired, and would havedone anything to give her pleasure), naturally recognized in mrs lammle a womanof penetration and taste. responding to the sentiments, by being verygracious to mrs lammle, she gave that lady

the means of so improving her opportunity,as that the captivation became reciprocal, though always wearing an appearance of greater sobriety on bella's part than onthe enthusiastic sophronia's. howbeit, they were so much together that,for a time, the boffin chariot held mrs lammle oftener than mrs boffin: apreference of which the latter worthy soul was not in the least jealous, placidly remarking, 'mrs lammle is a youngercompanion for her than i am, and lor! she's more fashionable.' but between bella wilfer and georgianapodsnap there was this one difference,

among many others, that bella was in nodanger of being captivated by alfred. she distrusted and disliked him. indeed, her perception was so quick, andher observation so sharp, that after all she mistrusted his wife too, though withher giddy vanity and wilfulness she squeezed the mistrust away into a corner ofher mind, and blocked it up there. mrs lammle took the friendliest interest inbella's making a good match. mrs lammle said, in a sportive way, shereally must show her beautiful bella what kind of wealthy creatures she and alfredhad on hand, who would as one man fall at her feet enslaved.

fitting occasion made, mrs lammleaccordingly produced the most passable of those feverish, boastful, and indefinablyloose gentlemen who were always lounging in and out of the city on questions of the bourse and greek and spanish and india andmexican and par and premium and discount and three-quarters and seven-eighths. who in their agreeable manner did homage tobella as if she were a compound of fine girl, thorough-bred horse, well-built drag,and remarkable pipe. but without the least effect, though evenmr fledgeby's attractions were cast into the scale.

'i fear, bella dear,' said mrs lammle oneday in the chariot, 'that you will be very hard to please.''i don't expect to be pleased, dear,' said bella, with a languid turn of her eyes. 'truly, my love,' returned sophronia,shaking her head, and smiling her best smile, 'it would not be very easy to find aman worthy of your attractions.' 'the question is not a man, my dear,' saidbella, coolly, 'but an establishment.' 'my love,' returned mrs lammle, 'yourprudence amazes me--where did you study life so well!--you are right. in such a case as yours, the object is afitting establishment.

you could not descend to an inadequate onefrom mr boffin's house, and even if your beauty alone could not command it, it is tobe assumed that mr and mrs boffin will--' 'oh! they have already,' bella interposed. 'no! have they really?'a little vexed by a suspicion that she had spoken precipitately, and withal a littledefiant of her own vexation, bella determined not to retreat. 'that is to say,' she explained, 'they havetold me they mean to portion me as their adopted child, if you mean that.but don't mention it.' 'mention it!' replied mrs lammle, as if shewere full of awakened feeling at the

suggestion of such an impossibility.'men-tion it!' 'i don't mind telling you, mrs lammle--'bella began again. 'my love, say sophronia, or i must not saybella.' with a little short, petulant 'oh!' bella complied.'oh!--sophronia then--i don't mind telling you, sophronia, that i am convinced i haveno heart, as people call it; and that i think that sort of thing is nonsense.' 'brave girl!' murmured mrs lammle.'and so,' pursued bella, 'as to seeking to please myself, i don't; except in the onerespect i have mentioned.

i am indifferent otherwise.' 'but you can't help pleasing, bella,' saidmrs lammle, rallying her with an arch look and her best smile, 'you can't help makinga proud and an admiring husband. you may not care to please yourself, andyou may not care to please him, but you are not a free agent as to pleasing: you areforced to do that, in spite of yourself, my dear; so it may be a question whether you may not as well please yourself too, if youcan.' now, the very grossness of this flatteryput bella upon proving that she actually did please in spite of herself.

she had a misgiving that she was doingwrong--though she had an indistinct foreshadowing that some harm might come ofit thereafter, she little thought what consequences it would really bring about--but she went on with her confidence. 'don't talk of pleasing in spite of one'sself, dear,' said bella. 'i have had enough of that.' 'ay?' cried mrs lammle.'am i already corroborated, bella?' 'never mind, sophronia, we will not speakof it any more. don't ask me about it.' this plainly meaning do ask me about it,mrs lammle did as she was requested.

'tell me, bella.come, my dear. what provoking burr has been inconvenientlyattracted to the charming skirts, and with difficulty shaken off?''provoking indeed,' said bella, 'and no burr to boast of! but don't ask me.''shall i guess?' 'you would never guess.what would you say to our secretary?' 'my dear! the hermit secretary, who creeps up anddown the back stairs, and is never seen!' 'i don't know about his creeping up anddown the back stairs,' said bella, rather

contemptuously, 'further than knowing thathe does no such thing; and as to his never being seen, i should be content never to have seen him, though he is quite asvisible as you are. but i pleased him (for my sins) and he hadthe presumption to tell me so.' 'the man never made a declaration to you,my dear bella!' 'are you sure of that, sophronia?' saidbella. 'i am not. in fact, i am sure of the contrary.''the man must be mad,' said mrs lammle, with a kind of resignation.

'he appeared to be in his senses,' returnedbella, tossing her head, 'and he had plenty to say for himself.i told him my opinion of his declaration and his conduct, and dismissed him. of course this has all been veryinconvenient to me, and very disagreeable. it has remained a secret, however. that word reminds me to observe, sophronia,that i have glided on into telling you the secret, and that i rely upon you never tomention it.' 'mention it!' repeated mrs lammle with herformer feeling. 'men-tion it!'

this time sophronia was so much in earnestthat she found it necessary to bend forward in the carriage and give bella a kiss. a judas order of kiss; for she thought,while she yet pressed bella's hand after giving it, 'upon your own showing, you vainheartless girl, puffed up by the doting folly of a dustman, i need have norelenting towards you. if my husband, who sends me here, shouldform any schemes for making you a victim, i should certainly not cross him again.' in those very same moments, bella wasthinking, 'why am i always at war with myself?

why have i told, as if upon compulsion,what i knew all along i ought to have withheld? why am i making a friend of this womanbeside me, in spite of the whispers against her that i hear in my heart?' as usual, there was no answer in thelooking-glass when she got home and referred these questions to it. perhaps if she had consulted some betteroracle, the result might have been more satisfactory; but she did not, and allthings consequent marched the march before them.

on one point connected with the watch shekept on mr boffin, she felt very inquisitive, and that was the questionwhether the secretary watched him too, and followed the sure and steady change in him,as she did? her very limited intercourse with mrrokesmith rendered this hard to find out. their communication now, at no timeextended beyond the preservation of commonplace appearances before mr and mrsboffin; and if bella and the secretary were ever left alone together by any chance, heimmediately withdrew. she consulted his face when she could do socovertly, as she worked or read, and could make nothing of it.

he looked subdued; but he had acquired astrong command of feature, and, whenever mr boffin spoke to him in bella's presence, orwhatever revelation of himself mr boffin made, the secretary's face changed no morethan a wall. a slightly knitted brow, that expressednothing but an almost mechanical attention, and a compression of the mouth, that mighthave been a guard against a scornful smile- -these she saw from morning to night, from day to day, from week to week, monotonous,unvarying, set, as in a piece of sculpture. the worst of the matter was, that it thusfell out insensibly--and most provokingly, as bella complained to herself, in herimpetuous little manner--that her

observation of mr boffin involved acontinual observation of mr rokesmith. 'won't that extract a look from him?'--'canit be possible that makes no impression on him?' such questions bella would propose toherself, often as many times in a day as there were hours in it.impossible to know. always the same fixed face. 'can he be so base as to sell his verynature for two hundred a year?' bella would think.and then, 'but why not? it's a mere question of price with othersbesides him.

i suppose i would sell mine, if i could getenough for it.' and so she would come round again to thewar with herself. a kind of illegibility, though a differentkind, stole over mr boffin's face. its old simplicity of expression got maskedby a certain craftiness that assimilated even his good-humour to itself. his very smile was cunning, as if he hadbeen studying smiles among the portraits of his misers. saving an occasional burst of impatience,or coarse assertion of his mastery, his good-humour remained to him, but it had nowa sordid alloy of distrust; and though his

eyes should twinkle and all his face should laugh, he would sit holding himself in hisown arms, as if he had an inclination to hoard himself up, and must alwaysgrudgingly stand on the defensive. what with taking heed of these two faces,and what with feeling conscious that the stealthy occupation must set some mark onher own, bella soon began to think that there was not a candid or a natural faceamong them all but mrs boffin's. none the less because it was far lessradiant than of yore, faithfully reflecting in its anxiety and regret every line ofchange in the golden dustman's. 'rokesmith,' said mr boffin one eveningwhen they were all in his room again, and

he and the secretary had been going oversome accounts, 'i am spending too much money. or leastways, you are spending too much forme.' 'you are rich, sir.''i am not,' said mr boffin. the sharpness of the retort was next totelling the secretary that he lied. but it brought no change of expression intothe set face. 'i tell you i am not rich,' repeated mrboffin, 'and i won't have it.' 'you are not rich, sir?' repeated thesecretary, in measured words. 'well,' returned mr boffin, 'if i am,that's my business.

i am not going to spend at this rate, toplease you, or anybody. you wouldn't like it, if it was yourmoney.' 'even in that impossible case, sir, i--''hold your tongue!' said mr boffin. 'you oughtn't to like it in any case. there!i didn't mean to be rude, but you put me out so, and after all i'm master.i didn't intend to tell you to hold your tongue. i beg your pardon.don't hold your tongue. only, don't contradict.

did you ever come across the life of mrelwes?' referring to his favourite subject at last.'the miser?' 'ah, people called him a miser. people are always calling other peoplesomething. did you ever read about him?''i think so.' 'he never owned to being rich, and yet hemight have bought me twice over. did you ever hear of daniel dancer?''another miser? yes.' 'he was a good 'un,' said mr boffin, 'andhe had a sister worthy of him. they never called themselves rich neither.if they had called themselves rich, most

likely they wouldn't have been so.' 'they lived and died very miserably.did they not, sir?' 'no, i don't know that they did,' said mrboffin, curtly. 'then they are not the misers i mean. those abject wretches--''don't call names, rokesmith,' said mr boffin. '--that exemplary brother and sister--livedand died in the foulest and filthiest degradation.' 'they pleased themselves,' said mr boffin,'and i suppose they could have done no more

if they had spent their money.but however, i ain't going to fling mine away. keep the expenses down.the fact is, you ain't enough here, rokesmith.it wants constant attention in the littlest things. some of us will be dying in a workhousenext.' 'as the persons you have cited,' quietlyremarked the secretary, 'thought they would, if i remember, sir.' 'and very creditable in 'em too,' said mrboffin.

'very independent in 'em!but never mind them just now. have you given notice to quit yourlodgings?' 'under your direction, i have, sir.' 'then i tell you what,' said mr boffin;'pay the quarter's rent--pay the quarter's rent, it'll be the cheapest thing in theend--and come here at once, so that you may be always on the spot, day and night, andkeep the expenses down. you'll charge the quarter's rent to me, andwe must try and save it somewhere. you've got some lovely furniture; haven'tyou?' 'the furniture in my rooms is my own.''then we shan't have to buy any for you.

in case you was to think it,' said mrboffin, with a look of peculiar shrewdness, 'so honourably independent in you as tomake it a relief to your mind, to make that furniture over to me in the light of a set- off against the quarter's rent, why easeyour mind, ease your mind. i don't ask it, but i won't stand in yourway if you should consider it due to yourself. as to your room, choose any empty room atthe top of the house.' 'any empty room will do for me,' said thesecretary. 'you can take your pick,' said mr boffin,'and it'll be as good as eight or ten

shillings a week added to your income. i won't deduct for it; i look to you tomake it up handsomely by keeping the expenses down. now, if you'll show a light, i'll come toyour office-room and dispose of a letter or two.' on that clear, generous face of mrsboffin's, bella had seen such traces of a pang at the heart while this dialogue wasbeing held, that she had not the courage to turn her eyes to it when they were leftalone. feigning to be intent on her embroidery,she sat plying her needle until her busy

hand was stopped by mrs boffin's hand beinglightly laid upon it. yielding to the touch, she felt her handcarried to the good soul's lips, and felt a tear fall on it.'oh, my loved husband!' said mrs boffin. 'this is hard to see and hear. but my dear bella, believe me that in spiteof all the change in him, he is the best of men.' he came back, at the moment when bella hadtaken the hand comfortingly between her own.'eh?' said he, mistrustfully looking in at the door.

'what's she telling you?''she is only praising you, sir,' said bella.'praising me? you are sure? not blaming me for standing on my owndefence against a crew of plunderers, who could suck me dry by driblets?not blaming me for getting a little hoard together?' he came up to them, and his wife folded herhands upon his shoulder, and shook her head as she laid it on her hands.'there, there, there!' urged mr boffin, not unkindly.

'don't take on, old lady.''but i can't bear to see you so, my dear.' 'nonsense!recollect we are not our old selves. recollect, we must scrunch or be scrunched. recollect, we must hold our own.recollect, money makes money. don't you be uneasy, bella, my child; don'tyou be doubtful. the more i save, the more you shall have.' bella thought it was well for his wife thatshe was musing with her affectionate face on his shoulder; for there was a cunninglight in his eyes as he said all this, which seemed to cast a disagreeable

illumination on the change in him, and makeit morally uglier.

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