It was some gratification to Mr. Quilp to find, as he took his place upon the roof, that Kit’s mother was alone inside; from which circumstance he derived in the course of the journey much cheerfulness of spirit, inasmuch as her solitary condition enabled him to terrify her with many extraordinary annoyances; such as hanging over the side of the coach at the risk of his life, and staring in with his great goggle eyes, which seemed in hers the more horrible from his face being upside down; dodging her in this way from one window to another; getting nimbly down whenever they changed horses and thrusting his head in at the window with a dismal squint: which ingenious tortures had such an effect upon Mrs. Nubbles, that she was quite unable for the time to resist the belief that Mr. Quilp did in his own person represent and embody that Evil Power, who was so vigorously attacked at Little Bethel, and who, by reason of her backslidings in respect of Astley’s and oysters, was now frolicksome and rampant.
Kit, having been apprised by letter of his mother’s intended return, was waiting for her at the coach-office; and great was his surprise when he saw, leering over the coachman’s shoulder like some familiar demon invisible to all eyes but his, the well-known face of Quilp.
“How are you, Christopher?” croaked the dwarf from the coach-top. “All right Christopher. Mother’s inside.”
“Why, how did he come here, mother?” whispered Kit.
“I don’t know how he came or why, my dear,” rejoined Mrs. Nubbles, dismounting with her son’s assistance, “but he has been a terrifying of me out of my seven senses all this blessed day.”
“He has?” cried Kit.
“You wouldn’t believe it, that you wouldn’t,” replied his mother; “but don’t say a word to him, for I really don’t believe he’s human. Hush! Don’t turn round as if I was talking of him, but he’s a squinting at me now in the full blaze of the coach-lamp, quite awful!”
In spite of his mother’s injunction, Kit turned sharply round to look. Mr. Quilp was serenely gazing at the stars, quite absorbed in celestial contemplation.
“Oh, he’s the artfullest creetur!” cried Mrs. Nubbles. “But come away. Don’t speak to him for the world.”
“Yes I will, mother. What nonsense. I say sir—”
Mr. Quilp affected to start, and looked smilingly round.
“You let my mother alone, will you?” said Kit. “How dare you tease a poor lone woman like her, making her miserable and melancholy as if she hadn’t got enough to make her so, without you. An’t you ashamed of yourself, you little monster?”
“Monster!” said Quilp inwardly, with a smile. “Ugliest dwarf that could be seen anywhere for a penny—monster—ah!”
“You show her any of your impudence again,” resumed Kit, shouldering the bandbox, “and I tell you what, Mr. Quilp, I won’t bear with you any more. You have no right to do it; I’m sure we never interfered with you. This isn’t the first time; and if ever you worry or frighten her again, you’ll oblige me (though I should be very sorry to do it, on account of your size) to beat you.”
Quilp said not a word in reply, but walking up so close to Kit as to bring his eyes within two or three inches of his face, looked fixedly at him, retreated a little distance without averting his gaze, approached again, again withdrew, and so on for half-a-dozen times, like a head in a phantasmagoria. Kit stood his ground as if in expectation of an immediate assault, but finding that nothing came of these gestures, snapped his fingers and walked away; his mother dragging him off as fast as she could, and, even in the midst of his news of little Jacob and the baby, looking anxiously over her shoulder to see if Quilp were following.
XLIX
Kit’s mother might have spared herself the trouble of looking back so often, for nothing was further from Mr. Quilp’s thoughts than any intention of pursuing her and her son, or renewing the quarrel with which they had parted. He went his way, whistling from time to time some fragments of a tune; and with a face quite tranquil and composed, jogged pleasantly towards home; entertaining himself as he went with visions of the fears and terrors of Mrs. Quilp, who, having received no intelligence of him for three whole days and two nights, and having had no previous notice of his absence, was doubtless by that time in a state of distraction, and constantly fainting away with anxiety and grief.
This facetious probability was so congenial to the dwarf’s humour, and so exquisitely amusing to him, that he laughed as he went along until the tears ran down his cheeks; and more than once, when he found himself in a by street, vented his delight in a shrill scream, which greatly terrifying any lonely passenger, who happened to be walking on before him expecting nothing so little, increased his mirth, and made him remarkably cheerful and lighthearted.
In this happy flow of spirits Mr. Quilp reached Tower Hill, when, gazing up at the window of his own sitting-room, he thought he descried more light than is usual in a house of mourning. Drawing nearer, and listening attentively, he could hear several voices in earnest conversation, among which he could distinguish, not only those of his wife and mother-in-law, but the tongues of men.
“Ha!” cried the jealous dwarf, “What’s this! Do they entertain such visitors while I’m away!”
A smothered cough from above, was the reply. He felt in his pockets for his latchkey, but had forgotten it. There was no resource but to knock at the door.
“A light in the passage,” said Quilp, peeping through the keyhole. “A very soft knock; and, by your leave my lady, I may yet steal upon you unawares. Soho!”
A very low and gentle rap,
