CHAPTER IV
_Describes, far more fully than the Court Newsman ever did, a Bachelor's Party, given by Mr. Bob Sawyer at his Lodgings in the Borough_
There is a repose about Lant Street, in the Borough, which sheds agentle melancholy upon the soul. There are always a good many houses tolet in the street: it is a by-street too, and its dulness is soothing.A house in Lant Street would not come within the denomination of afirst-rate residence, in the strict acceptation of the term; but itis a most desirable spot nevertheless. If a man wished to abstracthimself from the world--to remove himself from within the reach oftemptation--to place himself beyond the possibility of any inducementto look out of the window--he should by all means go to Lant Street.
In this happy retreat are colonised a few clear-starchers, a sprinklingof journeymen bookbinders, one or two prison agents for the InsolventCourt, several small housekeepers who are employed in the docks, ahandful of mantua-makers, and a seasoning of jobbing tailors. Themajority of the inhabitants either direct their energies to the lettingof furnished apartments, or devote themselves to the healthful andinvigorating pursuit of mangling. The chief features in the still lifeof the street are green shutters, lodging-bills, brass door-plates,and bell-handles; the principal specimens of animated nature, thepot-boy, the muffin youth, and the baked-potato man. The populationis migratory, usually disappearing on the verge of quarter-day, andgenerally by night. His Majesty's revenues are seldom collected in thishappy valley; the rents are dubious; and the water communication isvery frequently cut off.
Mr. Bob Sawyer embellished one side of the fire, in his first-floorfront, early in the evening for which he had invited Mr. Pickwick; andMr. Ben Allen the other. The preparations for the reception of visitorsappeared to be completed. The umbrellas in the passage had been heapedinto the little corner outside the back-parlour door; the bonnet andshawl of the landlady's servant had been removed from the banisters;there were not more than two pairs of pattens on the street-door mat,and the kitchen candle, with a very long snuff, burnt cheerfully on theledge of the staircase window. Mr. Bob Sawyer had himself purchasedthe spirits at a wine vaults in High Street, and had returned homepreceding the bearer thereof, to preclude the possibility of theirdelivery at the wrong house. The punch was ready-made in a red pan inthe bedroom; a little table, covered with a green baize cloth, hadbeen borrowed from the parlour, to play cards on; and the glasses ofthe establishment, together with those which had been borrowed for theoccasion from the public-house, were all drawn up in a tray, which wasdeposited on the landing outside the door.
Notwithstanding the highly satisfactory nature of all thesearrangements, there was a cloud on the countenance of Mr. Bob Sawyer,as he sat by the fireside. There was a sympathising expression, too, inthe features of Mr. Ben Allen, as he gazed intently on the coals; and atone of melancholy in his voice, as he said, after a long silence:
"Well, it _is_ unlucky she should have taken it in her head to turnsour, just on this occasion. She might at least have waited tillto-morrow."
"That's her malevolence, that's her malevolence," returned Mr. BobSawyer, vehemently. "She says that if I can afford to give a party Iought to be able to pay her confounded 'little bill.'"
"How long has it been running?" inquired Mr. Ben Allen. A bill,by-the-bye, is the most extraordinary locomotive engine that the geniusof man ever produced. It would keep on running during the longestlifetime, without ever once stopping of its own accord.
"Only a quarter, and a month or so," replied Mr. Bob Sawyer.
Ben Allen coughed hopelessly, and directed a searching look between thetwo top bars of the stove.
"It'll be a deuced unpleasant thing if she takes it into her head tolet out, when those fellows are here, won't it?" said Mr. Ben Allen atlength.
"Horrible," replied Bob Sawyer, "horrible."
A low tap was heard at the room door. Mr. Bob Sawyer looked expressivelyat his friend, and bade the tapper come in; whereupon a dirty slipshodgirl in black cotton stockings, who might have passed for the neglecteddaughter of a superannuated dustman in very reduced circumstances,thrust in her head, and said,
"Please, Mister Sawyer, Missis Raddle wants to speak to _you_."
Before Mr. Bob Sawyer could return any answer, the girl suddenlydisappeared with a jerk, as if somebody had given her a violent pullbehind; this mysterious exit was no sooner accomplished, than therewas another tap at the door--a smart pointed tap, which seemed to say,"Here I am, and in I'm coming."
Mr. Bob Sawyer glanced at his friend with a look of abject apprehension,and once more cried "Come in."
The permission was not at all necessary, for, before Mr. Bob Sawyer haduttered the words, a little fierce woman bounced into the room, all ina tremble with passion, and pale with rage.
"Now, Mr. Sawyer," said the little fierce woman, trying to appear verycalm, "if you'll have the kindness to settle that little bill of mineI'll thank you, because I've got my rent to pay this afternoon, andmy landlord's a waiting below now." Here the little woman rubbed herhands, and looked steadily over Mr. Bob Sawyer's head, at the wallbehind him.
"I am very sorry to put you to any inconvenience, Mrs. Raddle," saidBob Sawyer, deferentially, "but----"
"Oh, it isn't any inconvenience," replied the little woman, with ashrill titter. "I didn't want it particular before to-day; leastways,as it has to go to my landlord directly, it was as well for you tokeep it as me. You promised me this afternoon, Mr. Sawyer, and everygentleman as has ever lived here, has kept his word, sir, as of courseanybody as calls himself a gentleman, does." Mrs. Raddle tossed herhead, bit her lips, rubbed her hands harder, and looked at the wallmore steadily than ever. It was plain to see, as Mr. Bob Sawyerremarked in a style of eastern allegory on a subsequent occasion, thatshe was "getting the steam up."
_"If you'll have the kindness to settle that little billof mine I'll thank you"_]
"I am very sorry, Mrs. Raddle," said Bob Sawyer with all imaginablehumility, "but the fact is that I have been disappointed in the Cityto-day."--Extraordinary place, that City. An astonishing number of menalways _are_ getting disappointed there.
"Well, Mr. Sawyer," said Mrs. Raddle, planting herself firmly on apurple cauliflower in the Kidderminster carpet, "and what's that to me,sir?"
"I--I have no doubt, Mrs. Raddle," said Bob Sawyer, blinking this lastquestion, "that before the middle of next week we shall be able to setourselves quite square, and go on, on a better system afterwards."
This was all Mrs. Raddle wanted. She had bustled up to the apartment ofthe unlucky Bob Sawyer, so bent upon going into a passion, that in allprobability payment would have rather disappointed her than otherwise.She was in excellent order for a little relaxation of the kind: havingjust exchanged a few introductory compliments with Mr. R. in the frontkitchen.
"Do you suppose, Mr. Sawyer," said Mrs. Raddle, elevating her voice forthe information of the neighbours, "do you suppose that I'm a-goingday after day to let a fellar occupy my lodgings as never thinks ofpaying his rent, nor even the very money laid out for the fresh butterand lump sugar that's bought for his breakfast, and the very milkthat's took in, at the street door? Do you suppose a hard-working andindustrious woman as has lived in this street for twenty year (ten yearover the way, and nine year and three-quarter in this very house) hasnothing else to do but to work herself to death after a parcel of lazyidle fellars, that are always smoking and drinking, and lounging, whenthey ought to be glad to turn their hands to anything that would helpthem to pay their bills? Do you----"
"My good soul," interposed Mr. Benjamin Allen, soothingly.
"Have the goodness to keep your observashuns to yourself, sir, I beg,"said Mrs. Raddle, suddenly arresting the rapid torrent of her speech,and addressing the third party with impressive slowness and solemnity."I am not aweer, sir, that you have any right to address yourconversation to me. I don't think I let these apartments to you, sir."
"No, you certainly did not," said Mr. Benjamin Allen.<
br />
"Very good, sir," responded Mrs. Raddle, with lofty politeness. "Thenp'raps, sir, you'll confine yourself to breaking the arms and legs ofthe poor people in the hospitals, and keep yourself _to_ yourself, sir,or there may be some persons here as will make you, sir."
"But you are such an unreasonable woman," remonstrated Mr. BenjaminAllen.
"I beg your parding, young man," said Mrs. Raddle, in a coldperspiration of anger. "But will you have the goodness just to call methat again, sir?"
"I didn't make use of the word in any invidious sense, ma'am," repliedMr. Benjamin Allen, growing somewhat uneasy on his own account.
"I beg your parding, young man," demanded Mrs. Raddle in a louder andmore imperative tone. "But who do you call a woman? Did you make thatremark to me, sir?"
"Why, bless my heart!" said Mr. Benjamin Allen.
"Did you apply that name to me, I ask of you, sir?" interrupted Mrs.Raddle, with intense fierceness, throwing the door wide open.
"Why, of course I did," replied Mr. Benjamin Allen.
"Yes, of course you did," said Mrs. Raddle, backing gradually to thedoor, and raising her voice to its loudest pitch, for the specialbehoof of Mr. Raddle in the kitchen. "Yes, of course you did! Andeverybody knows that they may safely insult me in my own 'ouse while myhusband sits sleeping down-stairs, and taking no more notice than if Iwas a dog in the streets. He ought to be ashamed of himself (here Mrs.Raddle sobbed) to allow his wife to be treated in this way by a parcelof young cutters and carvers of live people's bodies, that disgracesthe lodgings (another sob), and leaving her exposed to all manner ofabuse; a base, faint-hearted, timorous wretch, that's afraid to comeup-stairs, and face the ruffinly creatures--that's afraid--that'safraid to come!" Mrs. Raddle paused to listen whether the repetition ofthe taunt had roused her better half; and, finding that it had not beensuccessful, proceeded to descend the stairs with sobs innumerable: whenthere came a loud double knock at the street door: whereupon she burstinto an hysterical fit of weeping, accompanied with dismal moans, whichwas prolonged until the knock had been repeated six times, when, in anuncontrollable burst of mental agony, she threw down all the umbrellas,and disappeared into the back parlour, closing the door after her withan awful crash.
"Does Mr. Sawyer live here?" said Mr. Pickwick, when the door wasopened.
"Yes," said the girl, "first floor. It's the door straight afore youwhen you gets to the top of the stairs." Having given this instruction,the handmaid, who had been brought up among the aboriginal inhabitantsof Southwark, disappeared, with the candle in her hand, down thekitchen stairs: perfectly satisfied that she had done everything thatcould possibly be required of her under the circumstances.
Mr. Snodgrass, who entered last, secured the street door, after severalineffectual efforts, by putting up the chain; and the friends stumbledup-stairs, where they were received by Mr. Bob Sawyer, who had beenafraid to go down, lest he should be waylaid by Mrs. Raddle.
"How are you?" said the discomfited student. "Glad to see you,--takecare of the glasses." This caution was addressed to Mr. Pickwick, whohad put his hat in the tray.
"Dear me," said Mr. Pickwick, "I beg your pardon."
"Don't mention it, don't mention it," said Bob Sawyer. "I'm ratherconfined for room here, but you must put up with all that, when youcome to see a young bachelor. Walk in. You've seen this gentlemanbefore, I think?" Mr. Pickwick shook hands with Mr. Benjamin Allen, andhis friends followed his example. They had scarcely taken their seatswhen there was another double knock.
"I hope that's Jack Hopkins!" said Mr. Bob Sawyer. "Hush! Yes, it is.Come up, Jack; come up."
A heavy footstep was heard upon the stairs, and Jack Hopkins presentedhimself. He wore a black velvet waistcoat, with thunder-and-lightningbuttons; and a blue striped shirt, with a white false collar.
"You're late, Jack," said Mr. Benjamin Allen.
"Been detained at Bartholomew's," replied Hopkins.
"Anything new?"
"No, nothing particular. Rather a good accident brought into thecasualty ward."
"What was that, sir?" inquired Mr. Pickwick.
"Only a man fallen out of a four pair of stairs' window;--but it's avery fair case--very fair case indeed."
"Do you mean that the patient is in a fair way to recover?" inquiredMr. Pickwick.
"No," replied Hopkins, carelessly. "No, I should rather say he wouldn't.There must be a splendid operation though, to-morrow--magnificent sightif Slasher does it."
"You consider Mr. Slasher a good operator?" said Mr. Pickwick.
"Best alive," replied Hopkins. "Took a boy's leg out of the socket lastweek--boy ate five apples and a gingerbread cake--exactly two minutesafter it was all over, boy said he wouldn't lie there to be made gameof, and he'd tell his mother if they didn't begin."
"Dear me!" said Mr. Pickwick, astonished.
"Pooh! That's nothing, that ain't," said Jack Hopkins. "Is it, Bob?"
"Nothing at all," replied Mr. Bob Sawyer.
"By-the-bye, Bob," said Hopkins, with a scarcely perceptible glance atMr. Pickwick's attentive face, "we had a curious accident last night. Achild was brought in, who had swallowed a necklace."
"Swallowed what, sir?" interrupted Mr. Pickwick.
"A necklace," replied Jack Hopkins. "Not all at once, you know, thatwould be too much--_you_ couldn't swallow that, if the child did--eh,Mr. Pickwick, ha! ha!" Mr. Hopkins appeared highly gratified with hisown pleasantry; and continued. "No, the way was this. Child's parentswere poor people who lived in a court. Child's eldest sister bought anecklace; common necklace, made of large black wooden beads. Child,being fond of toys, cribbed the necklace, hid it, played with it, cutthe string, and swallowed a bead. Child thought it capital fun, wentback next day, and swallowed another bead."
"Bless my heart," said Mr. Pickwick, "what a dreadful thing! I beg yourpardon, sir. Go on."
"Next day child swallowed two beads; the day after that, he treatedhimself to three, and so on, till in a week's time he had got throughthe necklace--five-and-twenty beads in all. The sister, who was anindustrious girl, and seldom treated herself to a bit of finery, criedher eyes out, at the loss of the necklace; looked high and low for it;but, I needn't say, didn't find it. A few days afterwards the familywere at dinner--baked shoulder of mutton, and potatoes under it--thechild, who wasn't hungry, was playing about the room, when suddenlythere was heard a devil of a noise, like a small hailstorm. 'Don't dothat, my boy,' said the father. 'I ain't a doin' nothing,' said thechild. 'Well, don't do it again,' said the father. There was a shortsilence, and then the noise again began, worse than ever. 'If you don'tmind what I say, my boy,' said the father, 'you'll find yourself inbed, in something less than a pig's whisper.' He gave the child a shaketo make him obedient, and such a rattling ensued as nobody ever heardbefore. 'Why, damme, it's _in_ the child!' said the father, 'he's gotthe croup in the wrong place!' 'No I haven't, father,' said the child,beginning to cry, 'it's the necklace; I swallowed it, father.' Thefather caught the child up, and ran with him to the hospital: the beadsin the boy's stomach rattling all the way with the jolting; and thepeople looking up in the air, and down in the cellars to see where theunusual sound came from. He's in the hospital now," said Jack Hopkins,"and he makes such a devil of a noise when he walks about, that they'reobliged to muffle him in a watchman's coat, for fear he should wake thepatients!"
"That's the most extraordinary case I ever heard of," said Mr.Pickwick, with an emphatic blow on the table.
"Oh, that's nothing," said Jack Hopkins; "is it, Bob?"
"Certainly not," replied Mr. Bob Sawyer.
"Very singular things occur in our profession, I can assure you, sir,"said Hopkins.
"So I should be disposed to imagine," replied Mr. Pickwick.
Another knock at the door, announced a large-headed young man in ablack wig, who brought with him a scorbutic youth in a long stock. Thenext comer was a gentleman in a shirt emblazoned with pink anchors,who was closely followed by a pale youth
with a plated watchguard. Thearrival of a prim personage in clean linen and cloth boots renderedthe party complete. The little table with the green baize cover waswheeled out; the first instalment of punch was brought in, in a whitejug; and the succeeding three hours were devoted to _vingt-et-un_ atsixpence a dozen, which was only once interrupted by a slight disputebetween the scorbutic youth and the gentleman with the pink anchors; inthe course of which, the scorbutic youth intimated a burning desire topull the nose of the gentleman with the emblems of hope; in reply towhich, that individual expressed his decided unwillingness to acceptof any "sauce" on gratuitous terms, either from the irascible younggentleman with the scorbutic countenance, or any other person who wasornamented with a head.
When the last "natural" had been declared, and the profit and lossaccount of fish and sixpences adjusted, to the satisfaction of allparties, Mr. Bob Sawyer rang for supper, and the visitors squeezedthemselves into corners while it was getting ready.
It was not so easily got ready as some people may imagine. First ofall, it was necessary to awaken the girl, who had fallen asleep withher face on the kitchen table; this took a little time, and, even whenshe did answer the bell, another quarter of an hour was consumed infruitless endeavours to impart to her a faint and distant glimmeringof reason. The man to whom the order for the oysters had been sent,had not been told to open them; it is a very difficult thing to openan oyster with a limp knife or a two-pronged fork; and very little wasdone in this way. Very little of the beef was done either; and the ham(which was also from the German-sausage shop round the corner) was in asimilar predicament. However, there was plenty of porter in a tin can;and the cheese went a great way, for it was very strong. So upon thewhole, perhaps, the supper was quite as good as such matters usuallyare.
After supper, another jug of punch was put upon the table, togetherwith a paper of cigars, and a couple of bottles of spirits. Then therewas an awful pause; and this awful pause was occasioned by a verycommon occurrence in this sort of place, but a very embarrassing onenotwithstanding.
The fact is, the girl was washing the glasses. The establishmentboasted four; we do not record the circumstance as at all derogatoryto Mrs. Raddle, for there never was a lodging-house yet, that was notshort of glasses. The landlady's glasses were little thin blown glasstumblers, and those which had been borrowed from the public-house weregreat, dropsical, bloated articles, each supported on a huge goutyleg. This would have been in itself sufficient to have possessed thecompany with the real state of affairs; but the young woman of all workhad prevented the possibility of any misconception arising in the mindof any gentleman upon the subject, by forcibly dragging every man'sglass away, long before he had finished his beer, and audibly stating,despite the winks and interruptions of Mr. Bob Sawyer, that it was tobe conveyed down-stairs, and washed forthwith.
It is a very ill wind that blows nobody any good. The prim man in thecloth boots, who had been unsuccessfully attempting to make a jokeduring the whole time the round game lasted, saw his opportunity,and availed himself of it. The instant the glasses disappeared, hecommenced a long story about a great public character, whose name hehad forgotten, making a particularly happy reply to another eminentand illustrious individual whom he had never been able to identify.He enlarged at some length and with great minuteness upon diverscollateral circumstances, distantly connected with the anecdote inhand, but for the life of him he couldn't recollect at that precisemoment what the anecdote was, although he had been in the habit oftelling the story with great applause for the last ten years.
"Dear me," said the prim man in the cloth boots, "it is a veryextraordinary circumstance."
"I am sorry you have forgotten it," said Mr. Bob Sawyer, glancingeagerly at the door, as he thought he heard the noise of glassesjingling; "very sorry."
"So am I," responded the prim man, "because I know it would haveafforded so much amusement. Never mind; I dare say I shall manage torecollect it, in the course of half an hour or so."
The prim man arrived at this point, just as the glasses came back, whenMr. Bob Sawyer, who had been absorbed in attention during the wholetime, said he should very much like to hear the end of it, for, so faras it went, it was, without exception, the very best story he had everheard.
The sight of the tumblers restored Bob Sawyer to a degree of equanimitywhich he had not possessed since his interview with his landlady. Hisface brightened up, and he began to feel quite convivial.
"Now, Betsy," said Mr. Bob Sawyer, with great suavity, and dispersing,at the same time, the tumultuous little mob of glasses the girl hadcollected in the centre of the table: "now, Betsy, the warm water: bebrisk, there's a good girl."
"You can't have no warm water," replied Betsy.
"No warm water!" exclaimed Mr. Bob Sawyer.
"No," said the girl, with a shake of the head which expressed a moredecided negative than the most copious language could have conveyed."Missis Raddle said you warn't to have none."
The surprise depicted on the countenances of his guests imparted newcourage to the host.
"Bring up the warm water instantly--instantly!" said Mr. Bob Sawyer,with desperate sternness.
"No. I can't," replied the girl; "Missis Raddle raked out the kitchenfire afore she went to bed, and locked up the kittle."
"Oh, never mind; never mind. Pray don't disturb yourself about sucha trifle," said Mr. Pickwick, observing the conflict of Bob Sawyer'spassions, as depicted in his countenance, "cold water will do verywell."
"Oh, admirably," said Mr. Benjamin Allen.
"My landlady is subject to some slight attacks of mental derangement,"remarked Bob Sawyer with a ghastly smile; "and I fear I must give herwarning."
"No, don't," said Ben Allen.
"I fear I must," said Bob, with heroic firmness. "I'll pay her whatI owe her, and give her warning to-morrow morning." Poor fellow! howdevoutly he wished he could!
Mr. Bob Sawyer's heart-sickening attempts to rally under this lastblow, communicated a dispiriting influence on the company, the greaterpart of whom, with the view of raising their spirits, attachedthemselves with extra cordiality to the cold brandy and water, thefirst perceptible effects of which were displayed in a renewal ofhostilities between the scorbutic youth and the gentleman in theshirt. The belligerents vented their feelings of mutual contempt, forsome time, in a variety of frownings and snortings, until at lastthe scorbutic youth felt it necessary to come to a more explicitunderstanding on the matter, when the following clear understandingtook place.
"Sawyer," said the scorbutic youth, in a loud voice.
"Well, Noddy," replied Mr. Bob Sawyer.
"I should be very sorry, Sawyer," said Mr. Noddy, "to create anyunpleasantness at any friend's table, and much less at yours,Sawyer--very; but I must take this opportunity of informing Mr. Gunterthat he is no gentleman."
"And _I_ should be very sorry, Sawyer, to create any disturbance inthe street in which you reside," said Mr. Gunter, "but I'm afraid Ishall be under the necessity of alarming the neighbours by throwing theperson who has just spoken, out o' window."
"What do you mean by that, sir?" inquired Mr. Noddy.
"What I say, sir," replied Mr. Gunter.
"I should like to see you do it, sir," said Mr. Noddy.
"You shall feel me do it in half a minute, sir," replied Mr. Gunter.
"I request that you'll favour me with your card, sir," said Mr. Noddy.
"I'll do nothing of the kind, sir," replied Mr. Gunter.
"Why not, sir?" inquired Mr. Noddy.
"Because you'll stick it up over your chimney-piece, and delude yourvisitors into the false belief that a gentleman has been to see you,sir," replied Mr. Gunter.
"Sir, a friend of mine shall wait on you in the morning," said Mr.Noddy.
"Sir, I'm very much obliged to you for the caution, and I'll leaveparticular directions with the servant to lock up the spoons," repliedMr. Gunter.
At this point the remainder of the guests interposed, and remonstr
atedwith both parties on the impropriety of their conduct; on which Mr.Noddy begged to state that his father was quite as respectable as Mr.Gunter's father; to which Mr. Gunter replied that his father was tothe full as respectable as Mr. Noddy's father, and that his father'sson was as good a man as Mr. Noddy, any day in the week. As thisannouncement seemed the prelude to a recommencement of the dispute,there was another interference on the part of the company; and a vastquantity of talking and clamouring ensued, in the course of which Mr.Noddy gradually allowed his feelings to overpower him, and professedthat he had ever entertained a devoted personal attachment towards Mr.Gunter. To this Mr. Gunter replied that, upon the whole, he ratherpreferred Mr. Noddy to his own brother; on hearing which admission, Mr.Noddy magnanimously rose from his seat, and proffered his hand to Mr.Gunter. Mr. Gunter grasped it with affecting fervour; and everybodysaid that the whole dispute had been conducted in a manner which washighly honourable to both parties concerned.
"Now," said Jack Hopkins, "just to set us going again, Bob, I don'tmind singing a song." And Hopkins, incited thereto by tumultuousapplause, plunged himself at once into "The King, God bless him," whichhe sang as loud as he could, to a novel air, compounded of the "Bay ofBiscay," and "A Frog he would." The chorus was the essence of the song;and, as each gentleman sang it to the tune he knew best, the effect wasvery striking indeed.
It was at the end of the chorus to the first verse, that Mr. Pickwickheld up his hand in a listening attitude, and said, as soon as silencewas restored:
"Hush! I beg your pardon. I thought I heard somebody calling fromup-stairs."
A profound silence immediately ensued; and Mr. Bob Sawyer was observedto turn pale.
"I think I hear it now," said Mr. Pickwick. "Have the goodness to openthe door."
The door was no sooner opened than all doubt on the subject was removed.
"Mr. Sawyer! Mr. Sawyer!" screamed a voice from the two-pair landing.
"It's my landlady," said Bob Sawyer, looking round him with greatdismay. "Yes, Mrs. Raddle."
"What do you mean by this, Mr. Sawyer?" replied the voice, with greatshrillness and rapidity of utterance. "Ain't it enough to be swindledout of one's rent, and money lent out of pocket besides, and abused andinsulted by your friends that dares to call themselves men: withouthaving the house turned out of window, and noise enough made to bringthe fire-engines here, at two o'clock in the morning? Turn themwretches away."
"You ought to be ashamed of yourselves," said the voice of Mr. Raddle,which appeared to proceed from beneath some distant bed-clothes.
"Ashamed of themselves!" said Mrs. Raddle. "Why don't you go down andknock 'em every one down-stairs? You would if you was a man."
"I should if I was a dozen men, my dear," replied Mr. Raddle,pacifically, "but they've the advantage of me in numbers, my dear."
"Ugh, you coward!" replied Mrs. Raddle, with supreme contempt. "_Do_you mean to turn them wretches out, or not, Mr. Sawyer?"
"They're going, Mrs. Raddle, they're going," said the miserable Bob."I am afraid you'd better go," said Mr. Bob Sawyer to his friends. "I_thought_ you were making too much noise."
"It's a very unfortunate thing," said the prim man. "Just as we weregetting so comfortable too!" The prim man was just beginning to have adawning recollection of the story he had forgotten.
"It's hardly to be borne," said the prim man, looking round. "Hardly tobe borne, is it?"
"Not to be endured," replied Jack Hopkins; "let's have the other verse,Bob. Come, here goes!"
"No, no, Jack, don't," interrupted Bob Sawyer; "it's a capital song,but I am afraid we had better not have the other verse. They are veryviolent people, the people of the house."
"Shall I step up-stairs and pitch into the landlord?" inquired Hopkins,"or keep on ringing the bell, or go and groan on the staircase? You maycommand me, Bob."
"I am very much indebted to you for your friendship and good nature,Hopkins," said the wretched Mr. Bob Sawyer, "but I think, the best planto avoid any further dispute is for us to break up at once."
"Now Mr. Sawyer!" screamed the shrill voice of Mrs. Raddle, "_are_ thembrutes going?"
"They're only looking for their hats, Mrs. Raddle," said Bob; "they aregoing directly."
"Going!" said Mrs. Raddle, thrusting her night-cap over the banistersjust as Mr. Pickwick, followed by Mr. Tupman, emerged from thesitting-room. "Going! what did they ever come for?"
"My dear ma'am," remonstrated Mr. Pickwick, looking up.
"Get along with you, you old wretch!" replied Mrs. Raddle, hastilywithdrawing the night-cap. "Old enough to be his grandfather, youwillin! You're worse than any of 'em."
Mr. Pickwick found it in vain to protest his innocence, so hurrieddown-stairs into the street, whither he was closely followed by Mr.Tupman, Mr. Winkle, and Mr. Snodgrass. Mr. Ben Allen, who was dismallydepressed with spirits and agitation, accompanied them as far asLondon Bridge, and in the course of the walk confided to Mr. Winkle,as an especially eligible person to entrust the secret to, that he wasresolved to cut the throat of any gentleman except Mr. Bob Sawyer,who should aspire to the affections of his sister Arabella. Havingexpressed his determination to perform this painful duty of a brotherwith proper firmness, he burst into tears, knocked his hat over hiseyes, and, making the best of his way back, knocked double knocks atthe door of the Borough Market office, and took short naps on the stepsalternately, until daybreak, under the firm impression that he livedthere, and had forgotten the key.
The visitors having all departed, in compliance with the ratherpressing request of Mrs. Raddle, the luckless Mr. Bob Sawyer wasleft alone to meditate on the probable events of to-morrow, and thepleasures of the evening.
The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club, v. 2 (of 2) Page 6