THE STORY OF LONDON: Charles Dickens' Perspective in 11 Novels & 80+ Short Stories (Illustrated Edition). Charles Dickens
Читать онлайн книгу.
over his head, And composed himself for a nap. Mr. Weller promptly walked forth, to execute his commission.
It was nearly nine o’clock when he reached Goswell Street. A couple of candles were burning in the little front parlour, and a couple of caps were reflected on the window-blind. Mrs. Bardell had got company.
Mr. Weller knocked at the door, and after a pretty long interval — occupied by the party without, in whistling a tune, and by the party within, in persuading a refractory flat candle to allow itself to be lighted — a pair of small boots pattered over the floorcloth, and Master Bardell presented himself.
‘Well, young townskip,’ said Sam, ‘how’s mother?’
‘She’s pretty well,’ replied Master Bardell, ‘so am I.’
‘Well, that’s a mercy,’ said Sam; ‘tell her I want to speak to her, will you, my hinfant fernomenon?’
Master Bardell, thus adjured, placed the refractory flat candle on the bottom stair, and vanished into the front parlour with his message.
The two caps, reflected on the window-blind, were the respective headdresses of a couple of Mrs. Bardell’s most particular acquaintance, who had just stepped in, to have a quiet cup of tea, and a little warm supper of a couple of sets of pettitoes and some toasted cheese. The cheese was simmering and browning away, most delightfully, in a little Dutch oven before the fire; the pettitoes were getting on deliciously in a little tin saucepan on the hob; and Mrs. Bardell and her two friends were getting on very well, also, in a little quiet conversation about and concerning all their particular friends and acquaintance; when Master Bardell came back from answering the door, and delivered the message intrusted to him by Mr. Samuel Weller.
‘Mr. Pickwick’s servant!’ said Mrs. Bardell, turning pale.
‘Bless my soul!’ said Mrs. Cluppins.
‘Well, I raly would not ha’ believed it, unless I had ha’ happened to ha’ been here!’ said Mrs. Sanders.
Mrs. Cluppins was a little, brisk, busy-looking woman; Mrs. Sanders was a big, fat, heavy-faced personage; and the two were the company.
Mrs. Bardell felt it proper to be agitated; and as none of the three exactly knew whether under existing circumstances, any communication, otherwise than through Dodson & Fogg, ought to be held with Mr. Pickwick’s servant, they were all rather taken by surprise. In this state of indecision, obviously the first thing to be done, was to thump the boy for finding Mr. Weller at the door. So his mother thumped him, and he cried melodiously.
‘Hold your noise — do — you naughty creetur!’ said Mrs. Bardell.
‘Yes; don’t worrit your poor mother,’ said Mrs. Sanders.
‘She’s quite enough to worrit her, as it is, without you, Tommy,’ said Mrs. Cluppins, with sympathising resignation.
‘Ah! worse luck, poor lamb!’ said Mrs. Sanders. At all which moral reflections, Master Bardell howled the louder.
‘Now, what shall I do?’ said Mrs. Bardell to Mrs. Cluppins.
‘I think you ought to see him,’ replied Mrs. Cluppins. ‘But on no account without a witness.’
‘I think two witnesses would be more lawful,’ said Mrs. Sanders, who, like the other friend, was bursting with curiosity.
‘Perhaps he’d better come in here,’ said Mrs. Bardell.
‘To be sure,’ replied Mrs. Cluppins, eagerly catching at the idea; ‘walk in, young man; and shut the street door first, please.’
Mr. Weller immediately took the hint; and presenting himself in the parlour, explained his business to Mrs. Bardell thus —
‘Wery sorry to ‘casion any personal inconwenience, ma’am, as the housebreaker said to the old lady when he put her on the fire; but as me and my governor ‘s only jest come to town, and is jest going away agin, it can’t be helped, you see.’
‘Of course, the young man can’t help the faults of his master,’ said Mrs. Cluppins, much struck by Mr. Weller’s appearance and conversation.
‘Certainly not,’ chimed in Mrs. Sanders, who, from certain wistful glances at the little tin saucepan, seemed to be engaged in a mental calculation of the probable extent of the pettitoes, in the event of Sam’s being asked to stop to supper.
‘So all I’ve come about, is jest this here,’ said Sam, disregarding the interruption; ‘first, to give my governor’s notice — there it is. Secondly, to pay the rent — here it is. Thirdly, to say as all his things is to be put together, and give to anybody as we sends for ‘em. Fourthly, that you may let the place as soon as you like — and that’s all.’
‘Whatever has happened,’ said Mrs. Bardell, ‘I always have said, and always will say, that in every respect but one, Mr. Pickwick has always behaved himself like a perfect gentleman. His money always as good as the bank — always.’
As Mrs. Bardell said this, she applied her handkerchief to her eyes, and went out of the room to get the receipt.
Sam well knew that he had only to remain quiet, and the women were sure to talk; so he looked alternately at the tin saucepan, the toasted cheese, the wall, and the ceiling, in profound silence.
‘Poor dear!’ said Mrs. Cluppins.
‘Ah, poor thing!’ replied Mrs. Sanders. Sam said nothing. He saw they were coming to the subject.
‘I raly cannot contain myself,’ said Mrs. Cluppins, ‘when I think of such perjury. I don’t wish to say anything to make you uncomfortable, young man, but your master’s an old brute, and I wish I had him here to tell him so.’ ‘I wish you had,’ said Sam.
‘To see how dreadful she takes on, going moping about, and taking no pleasure in nothing, except when her friends comes in, out of charity, to sit with her, and make her comfortable,’ resumed Mrs. Cluppins, glancing at the tin saucepan and the Dutch oven, ‘it’s shocking!’
‘Barbareous,’ said Mrs. Sanders.
‘And your master, young man! A gentleman with money, as could never feel the expense of a wife, no more than nothing,’ continued Mrs. Cluppins, with great volubility; ‘why there ain’t the faintest shade of an excuse for his behaviour! Why don’t he marry her?’
‘Ah,’ said Sam, ‘to be sure; that’s the question.’
‘Question, indeed,’ retorted Mrs. Cluppins, ‘she’d question him, if she’d my spirit. Hows’ever, there is law for us women, mis’rable creeturs as they’d make us, if they could; and that your master will find out, young man, to his cost, afore he’s six months older.’
At this consolatory reflection, Mrs. Cluppins bridled up, and smiled at Mrs. Sanders, who smiled back again.
‘The action’s going on, and no mistake,’ thought Sam, as Mrs. Bardell reentered with the receipt.
‘Here’s the receipt, Mr. Weller,’ said Mrs. Bardell, ‘and here’s the change, and I hope you’ll take a little drop of something to keep the cold out, if it’s only for old acquaintance’ sake, Mr. Weller.’
Sam saw the advantage he should gain, and at once acquiesced; whereupon Mrs. Bardell produced, from a small closet, a black bottle and a wineglass; and so great was her abstraction, in her deep mental affliction, that, after filling Mr. Weller’s glass, she brought out three more wineglasses, and filled them too.
‘Lauk, Mrs. Bardell,’ said Mrs. Cluppins, ‘see what you’ve been and done!’
‘Well, that is a good one!’ ejaculated Mrs. Sanders.
‘Ah, my poor head!’ said Mrs. Bardell, with a faint smile.
Sam understood all this, of course, so he said at once, that he never could drink before supper, unless a lady drank with him. A great deal of laughter ensued, and