The Old Curiosity Shop

worthy of remark too, as illustrating a little feature in the character of Miss Sally Brass, that, although on her own account she would have borne the discomforts of the Wilderness with a very ill grace, and would probably, indeed, have walked off before the tea appeared, she no sooner beheld the latent uneasiness and misery of her brother than she developed a grim satisfaction, and began to enjoy herself after her own manner. Though the wet came stealing through the roof and trickling down upon their heads, Miss Brass uttered no complaint, but presided over the tea equipage with imperturbable composure. While Mr. Quilp, in his uproarious hospitality, seated himself upon an empty beer-barrel, vaunted the place as the most beautiful and comfortable in the three kingdoms, and elevating his glass, drank to their next merry-meeting in that jovial spot; and Mr. Brass, with the rain plashing down into his teacup, made a dismal attempt to pluck up his spirits and appear at his ease; and Tom Scott, who was in waiting at the door under an old umbrella, exulted in his agonies and bade fair to split his sides with laughing; while all this was passing, Miss Sally Brass, unmindful of the wet which dripped down upon her own feminine person and fair apparel, sat placidly behind the tea-board, erect and grizzly, contemplating the unhappiness of her brother with a mind at ease, and content, in her amiable disregard of self, to sit there all night, witnessing the torments which his avaricious and grovelling nature compelled him to endure and forbade him to resent. And this, it must be observed, or the illustration would be incomplete, although in a business point of view, she had the strongest sympathy with Mr. Sampson, and would have been beyond measure indignant, if he had thwarted their client in any one respect.

In the height of his boisterous merriment, Mr. Quilp having on some pretence dismissed his attendant sprite for the moment, resumed his usual manner all at once, dismounted from his cask, and laid his hand upon the lawyer’s sleeve.

“A word,” said the dwarf, “before we go further. Sally, hark’ee for a minute.”

Miss Sally drew closer, as if accustomed to business conferences with their host which were the better for not having air.

“Business,” said the dwarf, glancing from brother to sister. “Very private business. Lay your heads together when you’re by yourselves.”

“Certainly, sir,” returned Brass, taking out his pocketbook and pencil. “I’ll take down the heads if you please, sir. Remarkable documents,” added the lawyer, raising his eyes to the ceiling, “most remarkable documents. He states his points so clearly that it’s a treat to have ’em! I don’t know any act of parliament that’s equal to him in clearness.”

“I shall deprive you of a treat,” said Quilp drily. “Put up your book. We don’t want any documents. So. There’s a lad named Kit⁠—”

Miss Sally nodded, implying that she knew of him.

“Kit!” said Mr. Sampson.⁠—“Kit! Ha! I’ve heard the name before, but I don’t exactly call to mind⁠—I don’t exactly⁠—”

“You’re as slow as a tortoise, and more thickheaded than a rhinoceros,” returned his obliging client with an impatient gesture.

“He’s extremely pleasant!” cried the obsequious Sampson. “His acquaintance with Natural History too is surprising. Quite a Buffoon, quite!”

There is no doubt that Mr. Brass intended some compliment or other; and it has been argued with show of reason that he would have said Buffon, but made use of a superfluous vowel. Be this as it may, Quilp gave him no time for correction, as he performed that office himself by more than tapping him on the head with the handle of his umbrella.

“Don’t let’s have any wrangling,” said Miss Sally, staying his hand. “I’ve showed you that I know him, and that’s enough.”

“She’s always foremost!” said the dwarf, patting her on the back and looking contemptuously at Sampson. “I don’t like Kit, Sally.”

“Nor I,” rejoined Miss Brass.

“Nor I,” said Sampson.

“Why, that’s right!” cried Quilp. “Half our work is done already. This Kit is one of your honest people, one of your fair characters; a prowling prying hound; a hypocrite; a double-faced, white-livered, sneaking spy; a crouching cur to those that feed and coax him, and a barking yelping dog to all besides.”

“Fearfully eloquent!” cried Brass, with a sneeze. “Quite appalling!”

“Come to the point,” said Miss Sally, “and don’t talk so much.”

“Right again!” exclaimed Quilp, with another contemptuous look at Sampson, “always foremost! I say, Sally, he is a yelping, insolent dog to all besides, and most of all, to me. In short, I owe him a grudge.”

“That’s enough, sir,” said Sampson.

“No, it’s not enough, sir,” sneered Quilp; “will you hear me out? Besides that I owe him a grudge on that account, he thwarts me at this minute, and stands between me and an end which might otherwise prove a golden one to us all. Apart from that, I repeat that he crosses my humour, and I hate him. Now, you know the lad, and can guess the rest. Devise your own means of putting him out of my way, and execute them. Shall it be done?”

“It shall, sir,” said Sampson.

“Then give me your hand,” retorted Quilp. “Sally, girl, yours. I rely as much or more, on you than him. Tom Scott comes back. Lantern, pipes, more grog, and a jolly night of it!”

No other word was spoken, no other look exchanged, which had the slightest reference to this, the real occasion of their meeting. The trio were well accustomed to act together, and were linked to each other by ties of mutual interest and advantage, and nothing more was needed. Resuming his boisterous manner with the same ease with which he had thrown it off, Quilp was in an instant the same uproarious, reckless little savage, he had been a few seconds before. It was ten o’clock at night before the amiable Sally supported her beloved and loving brother from the Wilderness, by which time he needed the utmost support her tender