The Old Curiosity Shop

by Dickens, Charles

  paved streets of a town which were clear of passengers, and quiet,

  for it was by this time near midnight, and the townspeople were all

  abed. As it was too late an hour to repair to the exhibition room,

  they turned aside into a piece of waste ground that lay just within

  the old town-gate, and drew up there for the night, near to another

  caravan, which, notwithstanding that it bore on the lawful panel

  the great name of Jarley, and was employed besides in conveying

  from place to place the wax-work which was its country's pride,

  was designated by a grovelling stamp-office as a 'Common Stage

  Waggon,' and numbered too--seven thousand odd hundred--as though

  its precious freight were mere flour or coals!

  This ill-used machine being empty (for it had deposited its burden

  at the place of exhibition, and lingered here until its services

  were again required) was assigned to the old man as his

  sleeping-place for the night; and within its wooden walls, Nell

  made him up the best bed she could, from the materials at hand.

  For herself, she was to sleep in Mrs Jarley's own travellingcarriage,

  as a signal mark of that lady's favour and confidence.

  She had taken leave of her grandfather and was returning to the

  other waggon, when she was tempted by the coolness of the night to

  linger for a little while in the air. The moon was shining down

  upon the old gateway of the town, leaving the low archway very

  black and dark; and with a mingled sensation of curiosity and fear,

  she slowly approached the gate, and stood still to look up at it,

  wondering to see how dark, and grim, and old, and cold, it looked.

  There was an empty niche from which some old statue had fallen or

  been carried away hundreds of years ago, and she was thinking what

  strange people it must have looked down upon when it stood there,

  and how many hard struggles might have taken place, and how many

  murders might have been done, upon that silent spot, when there

  suddenly emerged from the black shade of the arch, a man. The

  instant he appeared, she recognised him--Who could have failed to

  recognise, in that instant, the ugly misshapen Quilp!

  The street beyond was so narrow, and the shadow of the houses on

  one side of the way so deep, that he seemed to have risen out of

  the earth. But there he was. The child withdrew into a dark

  corner, and saw him pass close to her. He had a stick in his hand,

  and, when he had got clear of the shadow of the gateway, he leant

  upon it, looked back--directly, as it seemed, towards where she

  stood--and beckoned.

  To her? oh no, thank God, not to her; for as she stood, in an

  extremity of fear, hesitating whether to scream for help, or come

  from her hiding-place and fly, before he should draw nearer,

  there issued slowly forth from the arch another figure--that of a

  boy--who carried on his back a trunk.

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  'Faster, sirrah!' cried Quilp, looking up at the old gateway, and

  showing in the moonlight like some monstrous image that had come

  down from its niche and was casting a backward glance at its old

  house, 'faster!'

  'It's a dreadful heavy load, Sir,' the boy pleaded. 'I've come on

  very fast, considering.'

  'YOU have come fast, considering!' retorted Quilp; 'you creep, you

  dog, you crawl, you measure distance like a worm. There are the

  chimes now, half-past twelve.'

  He stopped to listen, and then turning upon the boy with a

  suddenness and ferocity that made him start, asked at what hour

  that London coach passed the corner of the road. The boy replied,

  at one.

  'Come on then,' said Quilp, 'or I shall be too late. Faster--do

  you hear me? Faster.'

  The boy made all the speed he could, and Quilp led onward,

  constantly turning back to threaten him, and urge him to greater

  haste. Nell did not dare to move until they were out of sight and

  hearing, and then hurried to where she had left her grandfather,

  feeling as if the very passing of the dwarf so near him must have

  filled him with alarm and terror. But he was sleeping soundly, and

  she softly withdrew.

  As she was making her way to her own bed, she determined to say

  nothing of this adventure, as upon whatever errand the dwarf had

  come (and she feared it must have been in search of them) it was

  clear by his inquiry about the London coach that he was on his way

  homeward, and as he had passed through that place, it was but

  reasonable to suppose that they were safer from his inquiries

  there, than they could be elsewhere. These reflections did not

  remove her own alarm, for she had been too much terrified to be

  easily composed, and felt as if she were hemmed in by a legion of

  Quilps, and the very air itself were filled with them.

  The delight of the Nobility and Gentry and the patronised of

  Royalty had, by some process of self-abridgment known only to

  herself, got into her travelling bed, where she was snoring

  peacefully, while the large bonnet, carefully disposed upon the

  drum, was revealing its glories by the light of a dim lamp that

  swung from the roof. The child's bed was already made upon the

  floor, and it was a great comfort to her to hear the steps removed

  as soon as she had entered, and to know that all easy communication

  between persons outside and the brass knocker was by this means

  effectually prevented. Certain guttural sounds, too, which from

  time to time ascended through the floor of the caravan, and a

  rustling of straw in the same direction, apprised her that the

  driver was couched upon the ground beneath, and gave her an

  additional feeling of security.

  Notwithstanding these protections, she could get none but broken

  sleep by fits and starts all night, for fear of Quilp, who

  throughout her uneasy dreams was somehow connected with the

  wax-work, or was wax-work himself, or was Mrs Jarley and wax-work

  too, or was himself, Mrs Jarley, wax-work, and a barrel organ all

  in one, and yet not exactly any of them either. At length, towards

  break of day, that deep sleep came upon her which succeeds to

  weariness and over-watching, and which has no consciousness

  but one of overpowering and irresistible enjoyment.

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  CHAPTER 28

  Sleep hung upon the eyelids of the child so long, that, when she

  awoke, Mrs Jarley was already decorated with her large bonnet, and

  actively engaged in preparing breakfast. She received Nell's

  apology for being so late with perfect good humour, and said that

  she should not have roused her if she had slept on until noon.

  'Because it does you good,' said the lady of the caravan, 'when

  you're tired, to sleep as long as ever you can, and get the fatigue

  quite off; and that's another blessing of your time of life--you

  can sleep so very sound.'

  'Have you had a bad night, ma'am?' asked Nell.

  'I seldom have anything else, child,' replied Mrs Jarley, with the
>
  air of a martyr. 'I sometimes wonder how I bear it.'

  Remembering the snores which had proceeded from that cleft in the

  caravan in which the proprietress of the wax-work passed the night,

  Nell rather thought she must have been dreaming of lying awake.

  However, she expressed herself very sorry to hear such a dismal

  account of her state of health, and shortly afterwards sat down

  with her grandfather and Mrs Jarley to breakfast. The meal

  finished, Nell assisted to wash the cups and saucers, and put them

  in their proper places, and these household duties performed, Mrs

  Jarley arrayed herself in an exceedingly bright shawl for the

  purpose of making a progress through the streets of the town.

  'The wan will come on to bring the boxes,' said Mrs Jarley, and you

  had better come in it, child. I am obliged to walk, very much

  against my will; but the people expect it of me, and public

  characters can't be their own masters and mistresses in such

  matters as these. How do I look, child?'

  Nell returned a satisfactory reply, and Mrs Jarley, after sticking

  a great many pins into various parts of her figure, and making

  several abortive attempts to obtain a full view of her own back,

  was at last satisfied with her appearance, and went forth

  majestically.

  The caravan followed at no great distance. As it went jolting

  through the streets, Nell peeped from the window, curious to see in

  what kind of place they were, and yet fearful of encountering at

  every turn the dreaded face of Quilp. It was a pretty large town,

  with an open square which they were crawling slowly across, and in

  the middle of which was the Town-Hall, with a clock-tower and a

  weather-cock. There were houses of stone, houses of red brick,

  houses of yellow brick, houses of lath and plaster; and houses of

  wood, many of them very old, with withered faces carved upon the

  beams, and staring down into the street. These had very little

  winking windows, and low-arched doors, and, in some of the narrower

  ways, quite overhung the pavement. The streets were very clean,

  very sunny, very empty, and very dull. A few idle men lounged

  about the two inns, and the empty market-place, and the tradesmen's

  doors, and some old people were dozing in chairs outside an

  alms-house wall; but scarcely any passengers who seemed bent on

  going anywhere, or to have any object in view, went by; and if

  perchance some straggler did, his footsteps echoed on the hot

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  bright pavement for minutes afterwards. Nothing seemed to be going

  on but the clocks, and they had such drowzy faces, such heavy lazy

  hands, and such cracked voices that they surely must have been too

  slow. The very dogs were all asleep, and the flies, drunk with

  moist sugar in the grocer's shop, forgot their wings and briskness,

  and baked to death in dusty corners of the window.

  Rumbling along with most unwonted noise, the caravan stopped at

  last at the place of exhibition, where Nell dismounted amidst an

  admiring group of children, who evidently supposed her to be an

  important item of the curiosities, and were fully impressed with

  the belief that her grandfather was a cunning device in wax. The

  chests were taken out with all convenient despatch, and taken in to

  be unlocked by Mrs Jarley, who, attended by George and another man

  in velveteen shorts and a drab hat ornamented with turnpike

  tickets, were waiting to dispose their contents (consisting of red

  festoons and other ornamental devices in upholstery work) to the

  best advantage in the decoration of the room.

  They all got to work without loss of time, and very busy they were.

  As the stupendous collection were yet concealed by cloths, lest the

  envious dust should injure their complexions, Nell bestirred

  herself to assist in the embellishment of the room, in which her

  grandfather also was of great service. The two men being well used

  to it, did a great deal in a short time; and Mrs Jarley served out

  the tin tacks from a linen pocket like a toll-collector's which she

  wore for the purpose, and encouraged her assistants to renewed

  exertion.

  While they were thus employed, a tallish gentleman with a hook nose

  and black hair, dressed in a military surtout very short and tight

  in the sleeves, and which had once been frogged and braided all

  over, but was now sadly shorn of its garniture and quite threadbare--

  dressed too in ancient grey pantaloons fitting tight to the leg,

  and a pair of pumps in the winter of their existence--looked in at

  the door and smiled affably. Mrs Jarley's back being then towards

  him, the military gentleman shook his forefinger as a sign that her

  myrmidons were not to apprise her of his presence, and stealing up

  close behind her, tapped her on the neck, and cried playfully

  'Boh!'

  'What, Mr Slum!' cried the lady of the wax-work. 'Lot! who'd have

  thought of seeing you here!'

  ''Pon my soul and honour,' said Mr Slum, 'that's a good remark.

  'Pon my soul and honour that's a wise remark. Who would have

  thought it! George, my faithful feller, how are you?'

  George received this advance with a surly indifference, observing

  that he was well enough for the matter of that, and hammering

  lustily all the time.

  'I came here,' said the military gentleman turning to Mrs Jarley--

  ''pon my soul and honour I hardly know what I came here for. It

  would puzzle me to tell you, it would by Gad. I wanted a little

  inspiration, a little freshening up, a little change of ideas, and--

  'Pon my soul and honour,' said the military gentleman, checking

  himself and looking round the room, 'what a devilish classical

  thing this is! by Gad, it's quite Minervian.'

  'It'll look well enough when it comes to be finished,' observed Mrs Jarley.

  'Well enough!' said Mr Slum. 'Will you believe me when I say it's

  the delight of my life to have dabbled in poetry, when I think I've

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  exercised my pen upon this charming theme? By the way--any

  orders? Is there any little thing I can do for you?'

  'It comes so very expensive, sir,' replied Mrs Jarley, 'and I

  really don't think it does much good.'

  'Hush! No, no!' returned Mr Slum, elevating his hand. 'No fibs.

  I'll not hear it. Don't say it don't do good. Don't say it. I

  know better!'

  'I don't think it does,' said Mrs Jarley.

  'Ha, ha!' cried Mr Slum, 'you're giving way, you're coming down.

  Ask the perfumers, ask the blacking-makers, ask the hatters, ask

  the old lottery-office-keepers--ask any man among 'em what my

  poetry has done for him, and mark my words, he blesses the name of

  Slum. If he's an honest man, he raises his eyes to heaven, and

  blesses the name of Slum--mark that! You are acquainted with

  Westminster Abbey, Mrs Jarley?'

  'Yes, surely.'

  'Then upon my soul and honour, ma'am, you'll find in a certain

  angle of that dreary pile, called Poet
s' Corner, a few smaller

  names than Slum,' retorted that gentleman, tapping himself

  expressively on the forehead to imply that there was some slight

  quantity of brain behind it. 'I've got a little trifle here, now,'

  said Mr Slum, taking off his hat which was full of scraps of paper,

  'a little trifle here, thrown off in the heat of the moment, which

  I should say was exactly the thing you wanted to set this place on

  fire with. It's an acrostic--the name at this moment is Warren,

  and the idea's a convertible one, and a positive inspiration for

  Jarley. Have the acrostic.'

  'I suppose it's very dear,' said Mrs Jarley.

  'Five shillings,' returned Mr Slum, using his pencil as a

  toothpick. 'Cheaper than any prose.'

  'I couldn't give more than three,' said Mrs Jarley.

  '--And six,' retorted Slum. 'Come. Three-and-six.'

  Mrs Jarley was not proof against the poet's insinuating manner, and

  Mr Slum entered the order in a small note-book as a

  three-and-sixpenny one. Mr Slum then withdrew to alter the

  acrostic, after taking a most affectionate leave of his patroness,

  and promising to return, as soon as he possibly could, with a fair

  copy for the printer.

  As his presence had not interfered with or interrupted the

  preparations, they were now far advanced, and were completed

  shortly after his departure. When the festoons were all put up as

  tastily as they might be, the stupendous collection was uncovered,

  and there were displayed, on a raised platform some two feet from

  the floor, running round the room and parted from the rude public

  by a crimson rope breast high, divers sprightly effigies of

  celebrated characters, singly and in groups, clad in glittering

  dresses of various climes and times, and standing more or less

  unsteadily upon their legs, with their eyes very wide open, and

  their nostrils very much inflated, and the muscles of their legs

  and arms very strongly developed, and all their countenances

  expressing great surprise. All the gentlemen were very

  pigeon-breasted and very blue about the beards; and all the ladies

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  were miraculous figures; and all the ladies and all the gentlemen

  were looking intensely nowhere, and staring with extraordinary

  earnestness at nothing.

  When Nell had exhausted her first raptures at this glorious sight,