“Ah!” said the dwarf, who with his hand stretched out above his eyes had been surveying the young man attentively, “that should be your grandson, neighbour!”
“Say rather that he should not be,” replied the old man. “But he is.”
“And that?” said the dwarf, pointing to Dick Swiveller.
“Some friend of his, as welcome here as he,” said the old man.
“And that?” inquired the dwarf wheeling round and pointing straight at me.
“A gentleman who was so good as to bring Nell home the other night when she lost her way, coming from your house.”
The little man turned to the child as if to chide her or express his wonder, but as she was talking to the young man, held his peace, and bent his head to listen.
“Well, Nelly,” said the young fellow aloud. “Do they teach you to hate me, eh?”
“No, no. For shame. Oh, no!” cried the child.
“To love me, perhaps?” pursued her brother with a sneer.
“To do neither,” she returned. “They never speak to me about you. Indeed they never do.”
“I dare be bound for that,” he said, darting a bitter look at the grandfather. “I dare be bound for that, Nell. Oh! I believe you there!”
“But I love you dearly, Fred,” said the child.
“No doubt!”
“I do indeed, and always will,” the child repeated with great emotion, “but oh! if you would leave off vexing him and making him unhappy, then I could love you more.”
“I see!” said the young man, as he stooped carelessly over the child, and having kissed her, pushed her from him: “There—get you away now you have said your lesson. You needn’t whimper. We part good friends enough, if that’s the matter.”
He remained silent, following her with his eyes, until she had gained her little room and closed the door; and then turning to the dwarf, said abruptly,
“Harkee Mr.—”
“Meaning me?” returned the dwarf. “Quilp is my name. You might remember. It’s not a long one—Daniel Quilp.”
“Harkee Mr. Quilp then,” pursued the other. “You have some influence with my grandfather there.”
“Some,” said Mr. Quilp emphatically.
“And are in a few of his mysteries and secrets.”
“A few,” replied Quilp, with equal dryness.
“Then let me tell him once for all, through you, that I will come into and go out of this place as often as I like, so long as he keeps Nell here; and that if he wants to be quit of me, he must first be quit of her. What have I done to be made a bugbear of, and to be shunned and dreaded as if I brought the plague? He’ll tell you that I have no natural affection; and that I care no more for Nell, for her own sake, than I do for him. Let him say so. I care for the whim, then, of coming to and fro and reminding her of my existence. I will see her when I please. That’s my point. I came here today to maintain it, and I’ll come here again fifty times with the same object and always with the same success. I said I would stop till I had gained it. I have done so, and now my visit’s ended. Come, Dick.”
“Stop!” cried Mr. Swiveller, as his companion turned towards the door. “Sir!”
“Sir, I am your humble servant,” said Mr. Quilp, to whom the monosyllable was addressed.
“Before I leave the gay and festive scene, and halls of dazzling light Sir,” said Mr. Swiveller, “I will, with your permission, attempt a slight remark. I came here sir this day, under the impression that the old min was friendly.”
“Proceed sir,” said Daniel Quilp; for the orator had made a sudden stop.
“Inspired by this idea and the sentiments it awakened, sir, and feeling as a mutual friend that badgering, baiting, and bullying, was not the sort of thing calculated to expand the souls and promote the social harmony of the contending parties, I took upon myself to suggest a course which is the course to be adopted on the present occasion. Will you allow me to whisper half a syllable sir?”
Without waiting for the permission he sought, Mr. Swiveller stepped up to the dwarf, and leaning on his shoulder and stooping down to get at his ear, said in a voice which was perfectly audible to all present,
“The watchword to the old min is—fork.”
“Is what?” demanded Quilp.
“Is fork sir, fork,” replied Mr. Swiveller slapping his pocket. “You are awake sir?”
The dwarf nodded. Mr. Swiveller drew back and nodded likewise, then drew a little further back and nodded again, and so on. By these means he in time reached the door, where he gave a great cough to attract the dwarf’s attention and gain an opportunity of expressing in dumb show, the closest confidence and most inviolable secrecy. Having performed the serious pantomime that was necessary for the due conveyance of these ideas, he cast himself upon his friend’s track, and vanished.
“Humph!” said the dwarf with a sour look and a shrug of his shoulders, “so much for dear relations. Thank God I acknowledge none! Nor need you either,” he added, turning to the old man, “if you were not as weak as a reed, and nearly as senseless.”
“What would you have me do?” he retorted in a kind of helpless desperation. “It is easy to talk and sneer. What would you have me do?”
“What would I do if I was in your case?” said the dwarf.
“Something violent, no doubt.”
“You’re right there,” returned the little man, highly gratified by the compliment, for such he evidently considered it; and grinning like a devil as he rubbed his dirty hands together. “Ask Mrs. Quilp, pretty Mrs. Quilp, obedient, timid, loving Mrs. Quilp. But that reminds me—I have left her all alone, and she will be anxious and know not a moment’s peace till I return. I know she’s always in that
