that he and that lady gradually changed positions; so that she became the injured party, and he was understood to be the injurer; but in a complimentary, not in an offensive sense; his cruel conduct being attributable to his exalted nature, and to that alone. So, in the end, the young gentleman withdrew his notice, and assured Mrs Todgers of his unalterable regard; and having done so, went back to business.
‘Goodness me, Miss Pecksniffs!’ cried that lady, as she came into the back room, and sat wearily down, with her basket on her knees, and her hands folded upon it, ‘what a trial of temper it is to keep a house like this! You must have heard most of what has just passed. Now did you ever hear the like?’
‘Never!’ said the two Miss Pecksniffs.
‘Of all the ridiculous young fellows that ever I had to deal with,’ resumed Mrs Todgers, ‘that is the most ridiculous and unreasonable. Mr Jinkins is hard upon him sometimes, but not half as hard as he deserves. To mention such a gentleman as Mr Jinkins in the same breath with him– you know it’s too much! And yet he’s as jealous of him, bless you, as if he was his equal.’
The young ladies were greatly entertained by Mrs Todgers’s account, no less than with certain anecdotes illustrative of the youngest gentleman’s character, which she went on to tell them. But Mr Pecksniff looked quite stern and angry; and when she had concluded, said in a solemn voice:
‘Pray, Mrs Todgers, if I may inquire, what does that young gentleman contribute towards the support of these premises?’
‘Why, sir, for what he has, he pays about eighteen shillings a week!’ said Mrs Todgers.
‘Eighteen shillings a week!’ repeated Mr Pecksniff.
‘Taking one week with another; as near that as possible,’ said Mrs Todgers.
Mr Pecksniff rose from his chair, folded his arms, looked at her, and shook his head.
‘And do you mean to say, ma’am – is it possible, Mrs Todgers – that for such a miserable consideration as eighteen shillings a week, a female of your understanding can so far demean herself as to wear a double face, even for an instant?’
‘I am forced to keep things on the square if I can, sir,’ faltered Mrs Todgers. ‘I must preserve peace among them, and keep my connection together, if possible, Mr Pecksniff. The profit is very small.’
‘The profit!’ cried that gentleman, laying great stress upon the word. ‘The profit, Mrs Todgers! You amaze me!’
He was so severe, that Mrs Todgers shed tears.
‘The profit!’ repeated Mr pecksniff. ‘The profit of dissimulation! To worship the golden calf of Baal, for eighteen shillings a week!’
‘Don’t in your own goodness be too hard upon me, Mr Pecksniff,’ cried Mrs Todgers, taking out her handkerchief.
‘Oh Calf, Calf!’ cried Mr Pecksniff mournfully. ‘Oh, Baal, Baal! oh my friend, Mrs Todgers! To barter away that precious jewel, self-esteem, and cringe to any mortal creature – for eighteen shillings a week!’
He was so subdued and overcome by the reflection, that he immediately took down his hat from its peg in the passage, and went out for a walk, to compose his feelings. Anybody passing him in the street might have known him for a good man at first sight; for his whole figure teemed with a consciousness of the moral homily he had read to Mrs Todgers.
Eighteen shillings a week! Just, most just, thy censure, upright Pecksniff! Had it been for the sake of a ribbon, star, or garter; sleeves of lawn, a great man’s smile, a seat in parliament, a tap upon the shoulder from a courtly sword; a place, a party, or a thriving lie, or eighteen thousand pounds, or even eighteen hundred; – but to worship the golden calf for eighteen shillings a week! oh pitiful, pitiful!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WHEREIN A CERTAIN GENTLEMAN BECOMES PARTICULAR IN HIS ATTENTIONS TO A CERTAIN LADY; AND MORE COMING EVENTS THAN ONE, CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE
The family were within two or three days of their departure from Mrs Todgers’s, and the commercial gentlemen were to a man despondent and not to be comforted, because of the approaching separation, when Bailey junior, at the jocund time of noon, presented himself before Miss Charity Pecksniff, then sitting with her sister in the banquet chamber, hemming six new pocket-handkerchiefs for Mr Jinkins; and having expressed a hope, preliminary and pious, that he might be blest, gave her in his pleasant way to understand that a visitor attended to pay his respects to her, and was at that moment waiting in the drawing-room. Perhaps this last announcement showed in a more striking point of view than many lengthened speeches could have done, the trustfulness and faith of Bailey’s nature; since he had, in fact, last seen the visitor on the door-mat, where, after signifying to him that he would do well to go upstairs, he had left him to the guidance of his own sagacity. Hence it was at least an even chance that the visitor was then wandering on the roof of the house, or vainly seeking to extricate himself from the maze of bedrooms; Todgers’s being precisely that kind of establishment in which an unpiloted stranger is pretty sure to find himself in some place where he least expects and least desires to be.
‘A gentleman for me!’ cried Charity, pausing in her work; ‘my gracious, Bailey!’
‘Ah!’ said Bailey. ‘It is my gracious, an’t it? Wouldn’t I be gracious neither, not if I wos him!’
The remark was rendered somewhat obscure in itself, by reason (as the reader may have observed) of a redundancy of negatives; but accompanied by action expressive of a faithful couple walking arm-in-arm towards a parochial church, mutually exchanging looks of love, it clearly signified this youth’s conviction that the caller’s purpose was of an amorous tendency. Miss Charity affected to reprove so great a liberty; but she could not help smiling. He was a strange boy, to be sure. There was always some ground of probability and likelihood mingled with his absurd behaviour. That was the best of it!
‘But I don’t know any gentlemen, Bailey,’ said Miss Pecksniff. ‘I think you must have made a mistake.’
Mr Bailey smiled at the extreme wildness of such a supposition, and regarded the young ladies with unimpaired affability.
‘My dear Merry,’ said Charity, ‘who can it be? Isn’t it odd? I have a great mind not to go to him really. So very strange, you know!’
The younger sister plainly considered that this appeal had its origin in the pride of being called upon and asked for; and that it was intended as an assertion of superiority, and a retaliation upon her for having captured the commercial gentlemen. Therefore, she replied, with great affection and politeness, that it was, no doubt, very strange indeed; and that she was totally at a loss to conceive what the ridiculous person unknown could mean by it.
‘Quite impossible to divine!’ said Charity, with some sharpness, ‘though still, at the same time, you needn’t be angry, my dear.’
‘Thank you,’ retorted Merry, singing at her needle. ‘I am quite aware of that, my love.’
‘I am afraid your head is turned, you silly thing,’ said Cherry.
‘Do you know, my dear,’ said Merry, with engaging candour, ‘that I have been afraid of that, myself, all along! So much incense and nonsense, and all the rest of it, is enough to turn a stronger head than mine. What a relief it must be to you, my dear, to be so very comfortable in that respect, and not to be worried by those odious men! How do you do it, Cherry?’
This
