CHAPTER XIV
_Comprising a Brief Description of the Company at the Peacock assembled; and a Tale told by a Bagman_
It is pleasant to turn from contemplating the strife and turmoilof political existence, to the peaceful repose of private life.Although in reality no great partisan of either side, Mr. Pickwickwas sufficiently fired with Mr. Pott's enthusiasm, to apply his wholetime and attention to the proceedings, of which the last chapteraffords a description compiled from his own memoranda. Nor while hewas thus occupied was Mr. Winkle idle, his whole time being devoted topleasant walks and short country excursions with Mrs. Pott, who neverfailed, when such an opportunity presented itself, to seek some relieffrom the tedious monotony she so constantly complained of. The twogentlemen being thus completely domesticated in the Editor's house, Mr.Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass were in a great measure cast upon their ownresources. Taking but little interest in public affairs, they beguiledtheir time chiefly with such amusements as the Peacock afforded, whichwere limited to a bagatelle-board in the first floor, and a sequesteredskittle-ground in the back yard. In the science and nicety of boththese recreations, which are far more abstruse than ordinary mensuppose, they were gradually initiated by Mr. Weller, who possessed aperfect knowledge of such pastimes. Thus, notwithstanding that theywere in a great measure deprived of the comfort and advantage of Mr.Pickwick's society, they were still enabled to beguile the time and toprevent its hanging heavily on their hands.
It was in the evening, however, that the Peacock presented attractionswhich enabled the two friends to resist even the invitations of thegifted, though prosy, Pott. It was in the evening that the "commercialroom" was filled with a social circle, whose characters and manners itwas the delight of Mr. Tupman to observe; whose sayings and doings itwas the habit of Mr. Snodgrass to note down.
Most people know what sort of places commercial rooms usually are. Thatof the Peacock differed in no material respect from the generality ofsuch apartments; that is to say, it was a large bare-looking room,the furniture of which had no doubt been better when it was newer,with a spacious table in the centre, and a variety of smaller dittosin the corners: an extensive assortment of variously shaped chairs,and an old Turkey carpet, bearing about the same relative proportionto the size of the room, as a lady's pocket-handkerchief might to thefloor of a watch-box. The walls were garnished with one or two largemaps; and several weather-beaten rough great-coats, with complicatedcapes, dangled from a long row of pegs in one corner. The mantelshelfwas ornamented with a wooden inkstand, containing one stump of a penand half a wafer: a road-book and directory: a county history minusthe cover; and the mortal remains of a trout in a glass coffin. Theatmosphere was redolent of tobacco-smoke, the fumes of which hadcommunicated a rather dingy hue to the whole room, and more especiallyto the dusty red curtains which shaded the windows. On the sideboarda variety of miscellaneous articles were huddled together, the mostconspicuous of which were some very cloudy fish-sauce cruets, a coupleof driving-boxes, two or three whips and as many travelling shawls, atray of knives and forks, and the mustard.
Here it was that Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass were seated on theevening after the conclusion of the election, with several othertemporary inmates of the house, smoking and drinking.
"Well, gents," said a stout, hale personage of about forty, withonly one eye--a very bright black eye, which twinkled with a roguishexpression of fun and good humour, "our noble selves, gents. I alwayspropose that toast to the company, and drink Mary to myself. Eh, Mary!"
"Get along with you, you wretch," said the handmaiden, obviously notill pleased with the compliment, however.
"Don't go away, Mary," said the black-eyed man.
"Let me alone, imperence," said the young lady.
"Never mind," said the one-eyed man, calling after the girl as she leftthe room. "I'll step out by-and-by, Mary. Keep your spirits up, dear."Here he went through the not very difficult process of winking uponthe company with his solitary eye, to the enthusiastic delight of anelderly personage with a dirty face and a clay pipe.
"Rum creeters is women," said the dirty-faced man after a pause.
"Ah! no mistake about that," said a very red-faced man, behind a cigar.
After this little bit of philosophy there was another pause.
"There's rummer things than women in this world though, mind you," saidthe man with the black eye, slowly filling a large Dutch pipe, with amost capacious bowl.
"Are you married?" inquired the dirty-faced man.
"Can't say I am."
"I thought not." Here the dirty-faced man fell into fits of mirth athis own retort, in which he was joined by a man of bland voice andplacid countenance, who always made it a point to agree with everybody.
"Women, after all, gentlemen," said the enthusiastic Mr. Snodgrass,"are the great props and comforts of our existence."
"So they are," said the placid gentleman.
"When they're in a good humour," interposed the dirty-faced man.
"And that's very true," said the placid one.
"I repudiate that qualification," said Mr. Snodgrass, whose thoughtswere fast reverting to Emily Wardle, "I repudiate it with disdain--withindignation. Show me the man who says anything against women, as women,and I boldly declare he is not a man." And Mr. Snodgrass took his cigarfrom his mouth and struck the table violently with his clenched fist.
"That's good sound argument," said the placid man.
"Containing a position which I deny," interrupted he of the dirtycountenance.
"And there's certainly a very great deal of truth in what you observetoo, sir," said the placid gentleman.
"Your health, sir," said the bagman with the lonely eye, bestowing anapproving nod on Mr. Snodgrass.
Mr. Snodgrass acknowledged the compliment.
"I always like to hear a good argument," continued the bagman, "asharp one, like this; it's very improving; but this little argumentabout women brought to my mind a story I have heard an old uncle ofmine tell, the recollection of which, just now, made me say there wererummer things than women to be met with, sometimes."
"I should like to hear that same story," said the red-faced man withthe cigar.
"Should you?" was the only reply of the bagman, who continued to smokewith great vehemence.
"So should I," said Mr. Tupman, speaking for the first time. He wasalways anxious to increase his stock of experience.
"Should _you_? Well then, I'll tell it. No I won't. I know you won'tbelieve it," said the man with the roguish eye, making that organ lookmore roguish than ever.
"If you say it's true, of course I shall," said Mr. Tupman.
"Well, upon that understanding I'll tell you," replied the traveller."Did you ever hear of the great commercial house of Bilson and Slum?But it doesn't matter though, whether you did or not, because theyretired from business long since. It's eighty years ago since thecircumstance happened to a traveller for that house, but he was aparticular friend of my uncle's; and my uncle told the story to me.It's a queer name; but he used to call it
THE BAGMAN'S STORY
and he used to tell it, something in this way.
"One winter's evening, about five o'clock, just as it began to growdusk, a man in a gig might have been seen urging his tired horse alongthe road which leads across Marlborough Downs, in the direction ofBristol. I say he might have been seen, and I have no doubt he wouldhave been, if anybody but a blind man had happened to pass that way;but the weather was so bad, and the night so cold and wet, that nothingwas out but the water, and so the traveller jogged along in the middleof the road, lonesome and dreary enough. If any bagman of that daycould have caught sight of the little neck-or-nothing sort of gig, witha clay-coloured body and red wheels, and the vixenish, ill-tempered,fast-going bay mare, that looked like a cross between a butcher's horseand a two-penny post-office pony, he would have known at once, thatthis traveller could have been no other than Tom Smart, of the greathouse of Bilson and Slum, Cateaton Street
, City. However, as there wasno bagman to look on, nobody knew anything at all about the matter; andso Tom Smart and his clay-coloured gig with the red wheels, and thevixenish mare with the fast pace, went on together, keeping the secretamong them: and nobody was a bit the wiser.
"There are many pleasanter places even in this dreary world, thanMarlborough Downs when it blows hard; and if you throw in beside, agloomy winter's evening, a miry and sloppy road, and a pelting fallof heavy rain, and try the effect, by way of experiment, in your ownproper person, you will experience the full force of this observation.
"The wind blew--not up the road or down it, though that's bad enough,but sheer across it, sending the rain slanting down like the lines theyused to rule in the copybooks at school, to make the boys slope well.For a moment it would die away, and the traveller would begin to deludehimself into the belief that, exhausted with its previous fury, it hadquietly lain itself down to rest, when, whoo! he would hear it growlingand whistling in the distance, and on it would come rushing over thehill-tops, and sweeping along the plain, gathering sound and strengthas it drew nearer, until it dashed with a heavy gust against horseand man, driving the sharp rain into their ears, and its cold dampbreath into their very bones; and past them it would scour, far, faraway, with a stunning roar, as if in ridicule of their weakness, andtriumphant in the consciousness of its own strength and power.
"_No other than Tom Smart_"]
"The bay mare splashed away, through the mud and water, with droopingears; now and then tossing her head as if to express her disgust atthis very ungentlemanly behaviour of the elements, but keeping a goodpace notwithstanding, until a gust of wind, more furious than any thathad yet assailed them, caused her to stop suddenly and plant her fourfeet firmly against the ground, to prevent her being blown over. It'sa special mercy that she did this, for if she _had_ been blown over,the vixenish mare was so light, and the gig was so light, and TomSmart such a light weight into the bargain, that they must infalliblyhave all gone rolling over and over together, until they reached theconfines of earth, or until the wind fell; and in either case theprobability is, that neither the vixenish mare, nor the clay-colouredgig with the red wheels, nor Tom Smart, would ever have been fit forservice again.
"'Well, damn my straps and whiskers,' says Tom Smart (Tom sometimes hadan unpleasant knack of swearing), 'Damn my straps and whiskers,' saysTom, 'if this an't pleasant, blow me!'
"You'll very likely ask me why, as Tom Smart had been pretty well blownalready, he expressed this wish to be submitted to the same processagain. I can't say,--all I know is, that Tom Smart said so--or at leasthe always told my uncle he said so, and it's just the same thing.
"'Blow me,' says Tom Smart; and the mare neighed as if she wereprecisely of the same opinion.
"'Cheer up, old girl,' said Tom, patting the bay mare on the neck withthe end of his whip. 'It won't do pushing on, such a night as this; thefirst house we come to we'll put up at, so the faster you go the soonerit's over. Soho, old girl--gently--gently.'
"Whether the vixenish mare was sufficiently well acquainted with thetones of Tom's voice to comprehend his meaning, or whether she foundit colder standing still than moving on, of course I can't say. But Ican say that Tom had no sooner finished speaking, than she pricked upher ears, and started forward at a speed which made the clay-colouredgig rattle till you would have supposed every one of the red spokes wasgoing to fly out on the turf of Marlborough Downs; and even Tom, whipas he was, couldn't stop or check her pace, until she drew up, of herown accord, before a roadside inn on the right-hand side of the way,about half a quarter of a mile from the end of the Downs.
"Tom cast a hasty glance at the upper part of the house as he threwthe reins to the hostler, and stuck the whip in the box. It was astrange old place, built of a kind of shingle, inlaid, as it were, withcross-beams, with gable-topped windows projecting completely over thepathway, and a low door with a dark porch, and a couple of steep stepsleading down into the house, instead of the modern fashion of half adozen shallow ones leading up to it. It was a comfortable-looking placethough, for there was a strong cheerful light in the bar-window, whichshed a bright ray across the road, and even lighted up the hedge onthe other side; and there was a red flickering light in the oppositewindow, one moment but faintly discernible, and the next gleamingstrongly through the drawn curtains, which intimated that a rousingfire was blazing within. Marking these little evidences with the eye ofan experienced traveller, Tom dismounted with as much agility as hishalf-frozen limbs would permit, and entered the house.
"In less than five minutes' time, Tom was ensconced in the roomopposite the bar--the very room where he had imagined the fireblazing--before a substantial matter-of-fact roaring fire, composedof something short of a bushel of coals, and wood enough to make halfa dozen decent gooseberry bushes, piled half-way up the chimney, androaring and crackling with a sound that of itself would have warmed theheart of any reasonable man. This was comfortable, but this was notall, for a smartly dressed girl, with a bright eye and a neat ankle,was laying a very clean white cloth on the table; and as Tom sat withhis slippered feet on the fender, and his back to the open door, hesaw a charming prospect of the bar reflected in the glass over thechimney-piece, with delightful rows of green bottles and gold labels,together with jars of pickles and preserves, and cheeses and boiledhams, and rounds of beef, arranged on shelves in the most tempting anddelicious array. Well, this was comfortable too; but even this was notall--for in the bar, seated at tea at the nicest possible little table,drawn close up before the brightest possible little fire, was a buxomwidow of somewhere about eight-and-forty or thereabouts, with a face ascomfortable as the bar, who was evidently the landlady of the house,and the supreme ruler over all these agreeable possessions. There wasonly one drawback to the beauty of the whole picture, and that was atall man--a very tall man--in a brown coat and bright basket buttons,and black whiskers, and wavy black hair, who was seated at tea with thewidow, and who it required no great penetration to discover was in afair way of persuading her to be a widow no longer, but to confer uponhim the privilege of sitting down in that bar, for and during the wholeremainder of the term of his natural life.
"Tom Smart was by no means of an irritable or envious disposition, butsomehow or other the tall man with the brown coat and the bright basketbuttons did rouse what little gall he had in his composition, and didmake him feel extremely indignant: the more especially as he couldnow and then observe, from his seat before the glass, certain littleaffectionate familiarities passing between the tall man and the widow,which sufficiently denoted that the tall man was as high in favour ashe was in size. Tom was fond of hot punch--I may venture to say he was_very_ fond of hot punch--and after he had seen the vixenish mare wellfed and well littered down, and had eaten every bit of the nice littlehot dinner which the widow tossed up for him with her own hands, hejust ordered a tumbler of it, by way of experiment. Now, if there wasone thing in the whole range of domestic art, which the widow couldmanufacture better than another, it was this identical article; andthe first tumbler was adapted to Tom Smart's taste with such peculiarnicety, that he ordered a second with the least possible delay. Hotpunch is a pleasant thing, gentlemen--an extremely pleasant thing underany circumstances--but in that snug old parlour, before the roaringfire, with the wind blowing outside till every timber in the old housecreaked again, Tom Smart found it perfectly delightful. He orderedanother tumbler, and then another--I am not quite certain whether hedidn't order another after that--but the more he drank of the hotpunch, the more he thought of the tall man.
"'Confound his impudence!' said Tom to himself, 'what business hashe in that snug bar? Such an ugly villain too!' said Tom. 'If thewidow had any taste, she might surely pick up some better fellow thanthat.' Here Tom's eyes wandered from the glass on the chimney-piece,to the glass on the table; and as he felt himself becoming graduallysentimental, he emptied the fourth tumbler of punch and ordered a fifth.
"Tom Smart, gentlemen,
had always been very much attached to the publicline. It had long been his ambition to stand in a bar of his own, in agreen coat, knee-cords and tops. He had a great notion of taking thechair at convivial dinners, and he had often thought how well he couldpreside in a room of his own in the talking way, and what a capitalexample he could set to his customers in the drinking department. Allthese things passed rapidly through Tom's mind as he sat drinking thehot punch by the roaring fire, and he felt very justly and properlyindignant that the tall man should be in a fair way of keeping such anexcellent house, while he, Tom Smart, was as far off from it as ever.So, after deliberating over the two last tumblers, whether he hadn't aperfect right to pick a quarrel with the tall man for having contrivedto get into the good graces of the buxom widow, Tom Smart at lastarrived at the satisfactory conclusion that he was a very ill-used andpersecuted individual, and had better go to bed.
"Up a wide and ancient staircase the smart girl preceded Tom, shadingthe chamber candle with her hand, to protect it from the currents ofair which in such a rambling old place might have found plenty of roomto disport themselves in, without blowing the candle out, but which didblow it out nevertheless; thus affording Tom's enemies an opportunityof asserting that it was he, and not the wind, who extinguished thecandle, and that while he pretended to be blowing it alight again,he was in fact kissing the girl. Be this as it may, another lightwas obtained, and Tom was conducted through a maze of rooms, and alabyrinth of passages, to the apartment which had been prepared for hisreception, where the girl bade him good night, and left him alone.
"It was a good large room with big closets, and a bed which might haveserved for a whole boarding-school, to say nothing of a couple of oakenpresses that would have held the baggage of a small army; but whatstruck Tom's fancy most was a strange, grim-looking, high-backed chair,carved in the most fantastic manner, with a flowered damask cushion,and the round knobs at the bottom of the legs carefully tied up in redcloth, as if it had got the gout in its toes. Of any other queer chair,Tom would only have thought it _was_ a queer chair, and there wouldhave been an end of the matter; but there was something about thisparticular chair, and yet he couldn't tell what it was, so odd and sounlike any other piece of furniture he had ever seen, that it seemedto fascinate him. He sat down before the fire, and stared at the oldchair for half an hour;--Deuce take the chair, it was such a strangeold thing, he couldn't take his eyes off it.
"'Well,' said Tom, slowly undressing himself, and staring at the oldchair all the while, which stood with a mysterious aspect by thebedside, 'I never saw such a rum concern as that in my days. Very odd,'said Tom, who had got rather sage with the hot punch, 'Very odd.' Tomshook his head with an air of profound wisdom, and looked at the chairagain. He couldn't make anything of it though, so he got into bed,covered himself up warm, and fell asleep.
"In about half an hour, Tom woke up, with a start, from a confuseddream of tall men and tumblers of punch: and the first object thatpresented itself to his waking imagination was the queer chair.
"'I won't look at it any more,' said Tom to himself, and he squeezedhis eyelids together, and tried to persuade himself he was going tosleep again. No use; nothing but queer chairs danced before his eyes,kicking up their legs, jumping over each other's backs, and playing allkinds of antics.
"'I may as well see one real chair, as two or three complete setsof false ones,' said Tom, bringing out his head from under thebed-clothes. There it was, plainly discernible by the light of thefire, looking as provoking as ever.
"Tom gazed at the chair; and, suddenly as he looked at it, a mostextraordinary change seemed to come over it. The carving of the backgradually assumed the lineaments and expression of an old shrivelledhuman face; the damask cushion became an antique, flapped waistcoat;the round knobs grew into a couple of feet, encased in red clothslippers; and the old chair looked like a very ugly old man, of theprevious century, with his arms a-kimbo. Tom sat up in bed, andrubbed his eyes to dispel the illusion. No. The chair was an ugly oldgentleman; and what was more, he was winking at Tom Smart.
"Tom was naturally a headlong, careless sort of dog, and he had hadfive tumblers of hot punch into the bargain; so, although he was alittle startled at first, he began to grow rather indignant when he sawthe old gentleman winking and leering at him with such an impudentair. At length he resolved that he wouldn't stand it; and as the oldface still kept winking away as fast as ever, Tom said, in a very angrytone:
"'What the devil are you winking at me for?'
"'Because I like it, Tom Smart,' said the chair; or the old gentleman,whichever you like to call him. He stopped winking though, when Tomspoke, and began grinning like a superannuated monkey.
"'How do you know my name, old nut-cracker face?' inquired Tom Smart,rather staggered;--though he pretended to carry it off so well.
"'Come, come, Tom,' said the old gentleman, 'that's not the way toaddress solid Spanish Mahogany. Damme, you couldn't treat me with lessrespect if I was veneered.' When the old gentleman said this, he lookedso fierce that Tom began to grow frightened.
"'I didn't mean to treat you with any disrespect, sir,' said Tom; in amuch humbler tone than he had spoken in at first.
"'Well, well,' said the old fellow, 'perhaps not--perhaps not. Tom----'
"'Sir----'
"'I know everything about you, Tom; everything. You're very poor, Tom.'
"'I certainly am,' said Tom Smart. 'But how came you to know that?'
"'Never mind that,' said the old gentleman; 'you're much too fond ofpunch, Tom.'
"Tom Smart was just on the point of protesting that he hadn't tasted adrop since his last birthday, but when his eye encountered that of theold gentleman, he looked so knowing that Tom blushed, and was silent.
"'Tom,' said the old gentleman, 'the widow's a fine woman--remarkablyfine woman--eh, Tom?' Here the old fellow screwed up his eyes, cockedup one of his wasted little legs, and looked altogether so unpleasantlyamorous, that Tom was quite disgusted with the levity of hisbehaviour;--at his time of life, too!
"'I am her guardian, Tom,' said the old gentleman.
"'Are you?' inquired Tom Smart.
"'I knew her mother, Tom,' said the old fellow; 'and her grandmother.She was very fond of me--made me this waistcoat, Tom.'
"'Did she?' said Tom Smart.
"'And these shoes,' said the old fellow lifting up one of the red-clothmufflers; 'but don't mention it, Tom. I shouldn't like to have itknown that she was so much attached to me. It might occasion someunpleasantness in the family.' When the old rascal said this, he lookedso extremely impertinent, that, as Tom Smart afterwards declared, hecould have sat upon him without remorse.
"'I have been a great favourite among the women in my time, Tom,' saidthe profligate old debauchee; 'hundreds of fine women have sat in mylap for hours together. What do you think of that, you dog, eh?' Theold gentleman was proceeding to recount some other exploits of hisyouth, when he was seized with such a violent fit of creaking that hewas unable to proceed.
"'Just serves you right, old boy,' thought Tom Smart; but he didn't sayanything.
"'Ah!' said the old fellow, 'I am a good deal troubled with this now. Iam getting old, Tom, and have lost nearly all my rails. I have had anoperation performed, too--a small piece let into my back--and I foundit a severe trial, Tom.'
"'I dare say you did, sir,' said Tom Smart.
"'However,' said the old gentleman, 'that's not the point. Tom! I wantyou to marry the widow.'
"'Me, sir!' said Tom.
"'You,' said the old gentleman.
"'Bless your reverend locks,' said Tom--(he had a few scatteredhorse-hairs left)--'bless your reverend locks, she wouldn't have me.'And Tom sighed involuntarily, as he thought of the bar.
"'Wouldn't she?' said the old gentleman, firmly.
"'No, no,' said Tom; 'there's somebody else in the wind. A tall man--aconfoundedly tall man--with black whiskers.'
"'Tom,' said the old gentleman; 'she will never have him.'
"'Won't she?' said Tom. 'If you stood in the bar, old gentleman, you'dtell another story.'
"'Pooh, pooh,' said the old gentleman. 'I know all about that.'
"'About what?' said Tom.
"'The kissing behind the door, and all that sort of thing, Tom,' saidthe old gentleman. And here he gave another impudent look, which madeTom very wroth, because, as you all know, gentlemen, to hear an oldfellow, who ought to know better, talking about these things, is veryunpleasant--nothing more so.
"'I know all about that, Tom,' said the old gentleman. 'I have seen itdone very often in my time, Tom, between more people than I should liketo mention to you; but it never came to anything after all.'
"'You must have seen some queer things,' said Tom, with an inquisitivelook.
"'You may say that, Tom,' replied the old fellow, with a verycomplicated wink. 'I am the last of my family, Tom,' said the oldgentleman, with a melancholy sigh.
"'Was it a large one?' inquired Tom Smart.
"'There were twelve of us, Tom,' said the old gentleman; 'fine,straight-backed, handsome fellows as you'd wish to see. None of yourmodern abortions--all with arms, and with a degree of polish, thoughI say it that should not, which would have done your heart good tobehold.'
"'And what's become of the others, sir?' asked Tom Smart.
"The old gentleman applied his elbow to his eye as he replied,'Gone, Tom, gone. We had hard service, Tom, and they hadn't all myconstitution. They got rheumatic about the legs and arms, and went intokitchens and other hospitals; and one of 'em, with long service andhard usage, positively lost his senses:--he got so crazy that he wasobliged to be burnt. Shocking thing that, Tom.'
"'Dreadful!' said Tom Smart.
"The old fellow paused for a few minutes, apparently struggling withhis feelings of emotion, and then said:
"'However, Tom, I am wandering from the point. This tall man, Tom, is arascally adventurer. The moment he married the widow, he would sell offall the furniture, and run away. What would be the consequence? Shewould be deserted and reduced to ruin, and I should catch my death ofcold in some broker's shop.'
"'Yes, but----'
"'Don't interrupt me,' said the old gentleman. 'Of you, Tom, Ientertain a very different opinion; for I well know that if you oncesettled yourself in a public-house, you would never leave it as long asthere was anything to drink within its walls.'
"'I am very much obliged to you for your good opinion, sir,' said TomSmart.
"'Therefore,' resumed the old gentleman, in a dictatorial tone; 'youshall have her, and he shall not.'
"'What is to prevent it?' said Tom Smart, eagerly.
"'This disclosure,' replied the old gentleman; 'he is already married.'
"'How can I prove it?' said Tom, starting half out of bed.
"The old gentleman untucked his arm from his side, and having pointedto one of the oaken presses, immediately replaced it in its oldposition.
"'He little thinks,' said the old gentleman, 'that in the right-handpocket of a pair of trousers in that press, he has left a letter,entreating him to return to his disconsolate wife, with six--mark me,Tom--six babes, and all of them small ones.'
"As the old gentleman solemnly uttered these words, his features grewless and less distinct, and his figure more shadowy. A film came overTom Smart's eyes. The old man seemed gradually blending into the chair,the damask waistcoat to resolve into a cushion, the red slippers toshrink into little red cloth bags. The light faded gently away, and TomSmart fell back on his pillow and dropped asleep.
"Morning aroused Tom from the lethargic slumber into which he hadfallen on the disappearance of the old man. He sat up in bed, and forsome minutes vainly endeavoured to recall the events of the precedingnight. Suddenly they rushed upon him. He looked at the chair; it was afantastic and grim-looking piece of furniture, certainly, but it musthave been a remarkably ingenious and lively imagination, that couldhave discovered any resemblance between it and an old man.
"'How are you, old boy?' said Tom. He was bolder in the daylight--mostmen are.
"The chair remained motionless, and spoke not a word.
"'Miserable morning,' said Tom. No. The chair would not be drawn intoconversation.
"'Which press did you point to?--you can tell me that,' said Tom. Devila word, gentlemen, the chair would say.
"'It's not much trouble to open it, anyhow,' said Tom, getting out ofbed very deliberately. He walked up to one of the presses. The key wasin the lock; he turned it, and opened the door. There _was_ a pair oftrousers there. He put his hand into the pocket, and drew forth theidentical letter the old gentleman had described!
"'Queer sort of thing, this,' said Tom Smart; looking first at thechair and then at the press, and then at the letter, and then at thechair again. 'Very queer,' said Tom. But, as there was nothing ineither to lessen the queerness, he thought he might as well dresshimself and settle the tall man's business at once--just to put him outof his misery.
"Tom surveyed the rooms he passed through, on his way down-stairs, withthe scrutinising eye of a landlord; thinking it not impossible that,before long, they and their contents would be his property. The tallman was standing in the snug little bar, with his hands behind him,quite at home. He grinned vacantly at Tom. A casual observer might havesupposed he did it, only to show his white teeth; but Tom Smart thoughtthat a consciousness of triumph was passing through the place where thetall man's mind would have been, if he had had any. Tom laughed in hisface; and summoned the landlady.
"'Good morning, ma'am,' said Tom Smart, closing the door of the littleparlour as the widow entered.
"'Good morning, sir,' said the widow. 'What will you take forbreakfast, sir?'
"Tom was thinking how he should open the case, so he made no answer.
"'There's a very nice ham,' said the widow, 'and a beautiful coldlarded fowl. Shall I send 'em in, sir?'
"These words roused Tom from his reflections. His admiration of thewidow increased as she spoke. Thoughtful creature! Comfortable provider!
"'Who is that gentleman in the bar, ma'am?' inquired Tom.
"'His name is Jinkins, sir,' replied the widow, slightly blushing.
"'He's a tall man,' said Tom.
"'He is a very fine man, sir,' replied the widow, 'and a very nicegentleman.'
"'Ah!' said Tom.
"'Is there anything more you want, sir?' inquired the widow, ratherpuzzled by Tom's manner.
"'Why, yes,' said Tom. 'My dear ma'am, will you have the kindness tosit down for one moment?'
"The widow looked much amazed but she sat down, and Tom sat down too,close beside her. I don't know how it happened, gentlemen--indeed myuncle used to tell me that Tom Smart said _he_ didn't know how ithappened either--but somehow or other the palm of Tom's hand fell uponthe back of the widow's hand, and remained there while he spoke.
"'My dear ma'am,' said Tom Smart--he had always a great notion ofcommitting the amiable--'My dear ma'am, you deserve a very excellenthusband;--you do indeed.'
"'Lor, sir!' said the widow--as well she might; Tom's mode ofcommencing the conversation being rather unusual, not to say startling;the fact of his never having set eyes upon her before the previousnight, being taken into consideration. 'Lor, sir!'
"'I scorn to flatter, my dear ma'am,' said Tom Smart. 'You deserve avery admirable husband, and whoever he is, he'll be a very lucky man.'As Tom said this his eye involuntarily wandered from the widow's face,to the comforts around him.
"The widow looked more puzzled than ever, and made an effort to rise.Tom gently pressed her hand, as if to detain her, and she kept herseat. Widows, gentlemen, are not usually timorous, as my uncle used tosay.
"'I am sure I am very much obliged to you, sir, for your good opinion,'said the buxom landlady, half laughing; 'and if ever I marry again----'
"'_If_,' said Tom Smart, looking very shrewdly out of the right-handcorner of his left eye. '_If_----'
"'Well,' said the widow, laughing outright this time. '
_When_ I do, Ihope I shall have as good a husband as you describe.'
"'Jinkins to wit,' said Tom.
"'Lor, sir!' exclaimed the widow.
"'Oh, don't tell me,' said Tom, 'I know him.'
"'I am sure nobody who knows him, knows anything bad of him,' said thewidow, bridling up at the mysterious air with which Tom had spoken.
"'Hem!' said Tom Smart.
"The widow began to think it was high time to cry, so she took out herhandkerchief, and inquired whether Tom wished to insult her; whetherhe thought it like a gentleman to take away the character of anothergentleman behind his back; why, if he had got anything to say, hedidn't say it to the man, like a man, instead of terrifying a poor weakwoman in that way; and so forth.
"'I'll say it to him fast enough,' said Tom, 'only I want you to hearit first.'
"'What is it?' inquired the widow, looking intently in Tom'scountenance.
"'I'll astonish you,' said Tom, putting his hand in his pocket.
"'If it is, that he wants money,' said the widow, 'I know that already,and you needn't trouble yourself.'
"'Pooh, nonsense, that's nothing,' said Tom Smart, '_I_ want money.'Tan't that.'
"'Oh dear, what can it be?' exclaimed the poor widow.
"'Don't be frightened,' said Tom Smart. He slowly drew forth theletter, and unfolded it. 'You won't scream?' said Tom, doubtfully.
"'No, no,' replied the widow; 'let me see it.'
"'You won't go fainting away, or any of that nonsense?' said Tom.
"'No, no,' returned the widow, hastily.
"'And don't run out, and blow him up,' said Tom, 'because I'll do allthat for you; you had better not exert yourself.'
"'Well, well,' said the widow, 'let me see it.'
"'I will,' replied Tom Smart; and, with these words, he placed theletter in the widow's hand.
"Gentlemen, I have heard my uncle say, that Tom Smart said, the widow'slamentations when she heard the disclosure would have pierced a heartof stone. Tom was certainly very tender-hearted, but they pierced histo the very core. The widow rocked herself to and fro, and wrung herhands.
"'Oh, the deception and villainy of man!' said the widow.
"'Frightful, my dear ma'am; but compose yourself,' said Tom Smart.
"'Oh, I can't compose myself,' shrieked the widow. 'I shall never findany one else I can love so much!'
"'Oh yes, you will, my dear soul,' said Tom Smart, letting fall ashower of the largest sized tears, in pity for the widow's misfortunes.Tom Smart, in the energy of his compassion, had put his arm round thewidow's waist; and the widow, in a passion of grief, had clasped Tom'shand. She looked up in Tom's face, and smiled through her tears. Tomlooked down in hers, and smiled through his.
"I never could find out, gentlemen, whether Tom did or did not kiss thewidow at that particular moment. He used to tell my uncle he didn't,but I have my doubts about it. Between ourselves, gentlemen, I ratherthink he did.
"At all events, Tom kicked the very tall man out at the front door halfan hour after, and married the widow a month after. And he used todrive about the country, with the clay-coloured gig with red wheels,and the vixenish mare with the fast pace, till he gave up business manyyears afterwards, and went to France with his wife; and then the oldhouse was pulled down."
* * * * *
"Will you allow me to ask you," said the inquisitive old gentleman,"what became of the chair?"
"Why," replied the one-eyed bagman, "it was observed to creak verymuch on the day of the wedding; but Tom Smart couldn't say for certainwhether it was with pleasure or bodily infirmity. He rather thought itwas the latter, though, for it never spoke afterwards."
_"She looked up in Tom's face and smiled through hertears."_]
"Everybody believed the story, didn't they?" said the dirty-faced man,refilling his pipe.
"Except Tom's enemies," replied the bagman. "Some of 'em said Tominvented it altogether; and others said he was drunk, and fancied it,and got hold of the wrong trousers by mistake before he went to bed.But nobody ever minded what _they_ said."
"Tom said it was all true?"
"Every word."
"And your uncle?"
"Every letter."
"They must have been very nice men, both of 'em," said the dirty-facedman.
"Yes, they were," replied the bagman; "very nice men indeed."
The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club, v. 1 (of 2) Page 16