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CHAPTER 20
Day after day as he bent his steps homeward, returning from some
new effort to procure employment, Kit raised his eyes to the window
of the little room he had so much commended to the child, and hoped
to see some indication of her presence. His own earnest wish,
coupled with the assurance he had received from Quilp, filled him
with the belief that she would yet arrive to claim the humble
shelter he had offered, and from the death of each day's hope
another hope sprung up to live to-morrow.
'I think they must certainly come to-morrow, eh mother?' said Kit,
laying aside his hat with a weary air and sighing as he spoke.
'They have been gone a week. They surely couldn't stop away more
than a week, could they now?'
The mother shook her head, and reminded him how often he had been
disappointed already.
'For the matter of that,' said Kit, 'you speak true and sensible
enough, as you always do, mother. Still, I do consider that a week
is quite long enough for 'em to be rambling about; don't you say
so?'
'Quite long enough, Kit, longer than enough, but they may not come
back for all that.'
Kit was for a moment disposed to be vexed by this contradiction,
and not the less so from having anticipated it in his own mind and
knowing how just it was. But the impulse was only momentary, and
the vexed look became a kind one before it had crossed the room.
'Then what do you think, mother, has become of 'em? You don't think
they've gone to sea, anyhow?'
'Not gone for sailors, certainly,' returned the mother with a
smile. 'But I can't help thinking 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, and there are some even that know of
their having been seen on board ship, and can tell you the name of
the place they've gone to, which is more than I can, my dear, for
it's a very hard one.'
'I don't believe it,' said Kit. 'Not a word of it. A set of idle
chatterboxes, how should they know!'
'They may be wrong of course,' returned the mother, 'I can't tell
about that, though I don't think it's at all unlikely that they're
in the right, for the talk is that the old gentleman had put by a
little money that nobody knew of, not even that ugly little man you
talk to me about--what's his name--Quilp; and that he and Miss
Nell have gone to live abroad where it can't be taken from them,
and they will never be disturbed. That don't seem very far out of
the way now, do it?'
Kit scratched his head mournfully, in reluctant admission that it
did not, and clambering up to the old nail took down the cage and
set himself to clean it and to feed the bird. His thoughts
reverting from this occupation to the little old gentleman who had
given him the shilling, he suddenly recollected that that was the
very day--nay, nearly the very hour--at which the little old
gentleman had said he should be at the Notary's house again. He no
sooner remembered this, than he hung up the cage with great
precipitation, and hastily explaining the nature of his errand,
went off at full speed to the appointed place.
It was some two minutes after the time when he reached the spot,
which was a considerable distance from his home, but by great good
luck the little old gentleman had not yet arrived; at least there
was no pony-chaise to be seen, and it was not likely that he had
come and gone again in so short a space. Greatly relieved to find
that he was not too late, Kit leant against a lamp-post to take
breath, and waited the advent of the pony and his charge.
Sure enough, before long the pony came trotting round the corner of
the street, looking as obstinate as pony might, and picking his
steps as if he were spying about for the cleanest places, and would
by no means dirty his feet or hurry himself inconveniently. Behind
the pony sat the little old gentleman, and by the old gentleman's
side sat the little old lady, carrying just such a nosegay as she
had brought before.
The old gentleman, the old lady, the pony, and the chaise, came up
the street in perfect unanimity, until they arrived within some
half a dozen doors of the Notary's house, when the pony, deceived
by a brass-plate beneath a tailor's knocker, came to a halt, and
maintained by a sturdy silence, that that was the house they
wanted.
'Now, Sir, will you ha' the goodness to go on; this is not the
place,' said the old gentleman.
The pony looked with great attention into a fire-plug which was
near him, and appeared to be quite absorbed in contemplating it.
'Oh dear, such a naughty Whisker" cried the old lady. 'After being
so good too, and coming along so well! I am quite ashamed of him.
I don't know what we are to do with him, I really don't.'
The pony having thoroughly satisfied himself as to the nature and
properties of the fire-plug, looked into the air after his old
enemies the flies, and as there happened to be one of them tickling
his ear at that moment he shook his head and whisked his tail,
after which he appeared full of thought but quite comfortable and
collected. The old gentleman having exhausted his powers of
persuasion, alighted to lead him; whereupon the pony, perhaps
because he held this to be a sufficient concession, perhaps because
he happened to catch sight of the other brass-plate, or perhaps
because he was in a spiteful humour, darted off with the old lady
and stopped at the right house, leaving the old gentleman to come
panting on behind.
It was then that Kit presented himself at the pony's head, and
touched his hat with a smile.
'Why, bless me,' cried the old gentleman, 'the lad is here! My
dear, do you see?'
'I said I'd be here, Sir,' said Kit, patting Whisker's neck. 'I
hope you've had a pleasant ride, sir. He's a very nice little
pony.'
'My dear,' said the old gentleman. 'This is an uncommon lad; a 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.'
Kit acknowledged these expressions of confidence by touching his
hat again and blushing very much. The old gentleman then handed the
old lady out, and after looking at him with an approving smile,
they went into the house--talking about him as they went, Kit
could not help feeling. Presently Mr Witherden, smelling very hard
at the nosegay, came to the window and looked at him, and after
that Mr Abel came and looked at him, and after that the old
gentleman and lady came and looked at him again, and after that
they all came and looked at him together, which Kit, feeling very
much embarrassed by, made a pretence of not observing. Therefore he
patted the pony more and more; and this liberty the pony most
handsomely permitted.
The faces had not disappeared from the window many moments, when Mr
Chuckster in his official coat, and with his hat hanging on his
head just as it happened to fall from its peg, appeared upon the
pavement, and telling him he was wanted inside, bade him go in and
he would mind the chaise the while. In giving him this direction Mr
Chuckster remarked that he wished that he might be blessed if he
could make out whether he (Kit) was 'precious raw' or 'precious
deep,' but intimated by a distrustful shake of the head, that he
inclined to the latter opinion.
Kit entered the office in a great tremor, for he was not used to
going among strange ladies and gentlemen, and the tin boxes and
bundles of dusty papers had in his eyes an awful and venerable air.
Mr Witherden too was a bustling gentleman who talked loud and fast,
and all eyes were upon him, and he was very shabby.
'Well, boy,' said Mr Witherden, 'you came to work out that
shilling;--not to get another, hey?'
'No indeed, sir,' replied Kit, taking courage to look up. 'I never
thought of such a thing.'
'Father alive?' said the Notary.
'Dead, sir.'
'Mother?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Married again--eh?'
Kit made answer, not without some indignation, that she was a widow
with three children, and that as to her marrying again, if the
gentleman knew her he wouldn't think of such a thing. At this reply
Mr Witherden buried his nose in the flowers again, and whispered
behind the nosegay to the old gentleman that he believed the lad
was as honest a lad as need be.
'Now,' said Mr Garland when they had made some further inquiries of
him, 'I am not going to give you anything--'
'Thank you, sir,' Kit replied; and quite seriously too, for this
announcement seemed to free him from the suspicion which the Notary
had hinted.
'--But,' resumed the old gentleman, 'perhaps I may want to know
something more about you, so tell me where you live, and I'll put
it down in my pocket-book.'
Kit told him, and the old gentleman wrote down the address with his
pencil. He had scarcely done so, when there was a great uproar in
the street, and the old lady hurrying to the window cried that
Whisker had run away, upon which Kit darted out to the rescue, and
the others followed.
It seemed that Mr Chuckster had been standing with his hands in his
pockets looking carelessly at the pony, and occasionally insulting
him with such admonitions as 'Stand still,'--'Be quiet,'--
'Wo-a-a,' and the like, which by a pony of spirit cannot be borne.
Consequently, the pony being deterred by no considerations of duty
or obedience, and not having before him the slightest fear of the
human eye, had at length started off, and was at that moment
rattling down the street--Mr Chuckster, with his hat off and a
pen behind his ear, hanging on in the rear of the chaise and making
futile attempts to draw it the other way, to the unspeakable
admiration of all beholders. Even in running away, however, Whisker
was perverse, for he had not gone very far when he suddenly
stopped, and before assistance could be rendered, commenced backing
at nearly as quick a pace as he had gone forward. By these means Mr
Chuckster was pushed and hustled to the office again, in a most
inglorious manner, and arrived in a state of great exhaustion and
discomfiture.
The old lady then stepped into her seat, and Mr Abel (whom they had
come to fetch) into his. The old gentleman, after reasoning with
the pony on the extreme impropriety of his conduct, and making the
best amends in his power to Mr Chuckster, took his place also, and
they drove away, waving a farewell to the Notary and his clerk, and
more than once turning to nod kindly to Kit as he watched them from
the road.
Content of CHAPTER 20 [Charles Dickens' novel: The Old Curiosity Shop]
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