LITMIR.BIZ

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gone for sailors, certainly,” returned the mother with a smile. “But I think that they have gone to some foreign country.”

      “I say,” cried Kit with a rueful face, “don’t talk like that, mother.”

      “I am afraid they have, and that’s the truth,” she said. “It’s the talk of all the neighbours.”

      “I don’t believe it,” said Kit. “Not a word of it. How should they know!”

      “They may be wrong of course,” returned the mother, “but the people say that the old gentleman and Miss Nell have gone to live abroad where they will never be disturbed.”

      Kit scratched his head mournfully. Suddenly a knock at the door was heard. Kit opened the door and saw a little old gentleman and a little old lady.

      “Why, bless me,” cried the old gentleman, “the lad is here! My dear, do you see? This is a very good lad, I’m sure.”

      “I’m sure he is,” rejoined the old lady. “A very good lad, and I am sure he is a good son.”

      The old gentleman then handed the old lady out, and after looking at him with an approving smile, they went into the house.

      “Well, boy,” said the old gentleman, smiling; “We are here before you, you see, Christopher[60].”

      “Yes, sir,” said Kit; and as he said it, he looked towards his mother for an explanation of the visit.

      “This gentleman, Mr. Garland[61], was kind enough, my dear,” said she, in reply to this mute interrogation, “to ask me yesterday whether you were in a good place, or in any place at all, and when I told him no, you were not in any, he was so good as to say that…”

      “That we wanted a good lad in our house,” said the old gentleman and the old lady both together.

      “You see, my good woman,” said Mrs. Garland to Kit’s mother, “that it’s necessary to be very careful and particular in such a matter as this, for we’re only three in family, and are very quiet people, and it would be a sad thing if we made any kind of mistake, and found things different from what we hoped and expected.”

      To this, Kit’s mother replied, that certainly it was quite true, and quite right, and quite proper and her son was a very good son though she was his mother, in which respect, she was bold to say, he took after his father, who was not only a good son to his mother, but the best of husbands and the best of fathers besides. After this long story she wiped her eyes with her apron, and patted her little son’s head, who was staring at the strange lady and gentleman.

      Mr. Garland put some questions to Kit respecting his qualifications and general acquirements. It was settled that Kit would start to work on the next day, and the money is six pound a year. Finally, the little old couple took their leaves; being escorted by their new attendant.

      “Well, mother,” said Kit, hurrying back into the house, “I think my fortune’s about made now.”

      “I should think it was indeed, Kit,” rejoined his mother. “Six pound a year! Only think!”

      “Ah!” said Kit. “There’s a property!”

      21

      “Hem!” croaked a strange voice. “What’s that about six pound a year? What about six pound a year?” And as the voice made this inquiry, Daniel Quilp walked in with Richard Swiveller at his heels.

      “Who said he would have six pound a year?” said Quilp, looking sharply round. “Did the old man say it, or did little Nell say it? And what’s he to have it for, and where are they, eh?”

      The good woman was so much alarmed by the sudden apparition of this unknown ugly dwarf, that she hastily caught the baby from its cradle and retreated into the furthest corner of the room.

      “Don’t be frightened, mistress,” said Quilp, after a pause. “Your son knows me; I don’t eat babies; I don’t like them. Now you Kit, why haven’t you come to me as you promised?”

      “What should I come for?” retorted Kit. “I hadn’t any business with you, no more than you had with me.”

      “Here, mistress,” said Quilp, turning quickly away, and appealing from Kit to his mother. “When did his old master come or send here last? Is he here now? If not, where’s he gone?”

      “He has not been here at all,” she replied. “We don’t know where they have gone.”

      Quilp glanced at Richard Swiveller, and assumed that he had come in search of some information of the fugitives. He supposed he was right?

      “Yes,” said Dick, “that was the object of the present expedition.”

      “You seem disappointed,” observed Quilp.

      “It baffles description[62], sir, that’s all,” returned Dick.

      The dwarf looked at Richard with a sarcastic smile, but Richard continued to deplore his fate with mournful and despondent looks.

      “I am disappointed myself,” said Quilp, “I have friendly feeling for them; but you have real reasons, private reasons I have no doubt, for your disappointment, and therefore it comes heavier than mine.”

      “Why, of course it does,” Dick observed, testily.

      “Upon my word, I’m very sorry, very sorry. But as we are companions in adversity[63], shall we be companions in the surest way of forgetting it? If you had no particular business, now, to lead you in another direction,” urged Quilp, plucking him by the sleeve and looking slyly up into his face out of the corners of his eyes, “there is a house by the water-side where they have excellent gin. The landlord knows me. There’s a little summer-house[64] overlooking the river, where we might take a glass of this delicious liquor, Mr. Swiveller, eh?”

      As the dwarf spoke, Dick’s face relaxed into a compliant smile, and his brows slowly unbent. Off they went.

      The summer-house of which Mr. Quilp had spoken was a rugged wooden box, rotten and bare to see, which overhung the river’s mud, and threatened to slide down into it. The tavern to which it belonged was a crazy building, undermined by the rats. The rooms were low and damp, the clammy walls were pierced with chinks and holes. To this inviting spot Mr. Quilp led Richard Swiveller.

      22

      Roads stretch a long, long way. The old man and the child passed, without stopping, two or three inconsiderable clusters of cottages, a public-house where they had some bread and cheese, and they were very weary and fatigued.

      In the evening they arrived at a point where the road made a sharp turn and struck across a common[65]. On the border of this common, and close to the hedge which divided it from the cultivated fields, a caravan was drawn up to rest.

      It was not a shabby, dingy, dusty cart, but a smart little house upon wheels, with white dimity curtains festooning the windows. Neither was it a gypsy caravan, for at the open door sat a Christian lady, stout and comfortable to look upon, who wore a large bonnet trembling with bows. This lady was drinking tea. The tea-things, including a bottle and a cold knuckle of ham, were set forth upon a drum, covered with a white napkin.

      It happened that at that moment the lady beheld an old man and a young child walking slowly by.

      “Hey!” cried the lady of the caravan. “Yes, to be sure, who won the prize, child?”

      “Won what, ma’am?” asked Nell.

      “The prize, at the races, child.”

      “I don’t know, ma’am.”

      “Don’t

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