So far from being sustained and stimulated by this delightful prospect, the child shrunk from him in great agitation, and trembled violently. Mr. Quilp, either because frightening anybody afforded him a constitutional delight, or because it was pleasant to contemplate the death of Mrs. Quilp number one, and the elevation of Mrs. Quilp number two to her post and title, or because he was determined for purposes of his own to be agreeable and good-humoured at that particular time, only laughed and feigned to take no heed of her alarm.
“You shall come with me to Tower Hill, and see Mrs. Quilp that is, directly,” said the dwarf. “She’s very fond of you, Nell, though not so fond as I am. You shall come home with me.”
“I must go back indeed” said the child. “He told me to return directly I had the answer.”
“But you haven’t it Nelly,” retorted the dwarf, “and won’t have it, and can’t have it, until I have been home, so you see that to do your errand, you must go with me. Reach me yonder hat my dear and we’ll go directly.” With that, Mr. Quilp suffered himself to roll gradually off the desk until his short legs touched the ground, when he got upon them and led the way from the countinghouse to the wharf outside, where the first objects that presented themselves were the boy who had stood on his head and another young gentleman of about his own stature, rolling in the mud together, locked in a tight embrace, and cuffing each other with mutual heartiness.
“It’s Kit!” cried Nelly clasping her hands, “poor Kit who came with me! oh pray stop them Mr. Quilp!”
“I’ll stop ’em” cried Quilp, diving into the little countinghouse and returning with a thick stick, “I’ll stop ’em. Now my boys fight away. I’ll fight you both, I’ll take both of you, both together, both together!”
With which defiances the dwarf flourished his cudgel, and dancing round the combatants and treading upon them and skipping over them, in a kind of frenzy, laid about him, now on one and now on the other, in a most desperate manner, always aiming at their heads and dealing such blows as none but the veriest little savage would have inflicted. This being warmer work than they had calculated upon, speedily cooled the courage of the belligerents, who scrambled to their feet and called for quarter.
“I’ll beat you to a pulp you dogs,” said Quilp vainly endeavouring to get near either of them for a parting blow. “I’ll bruise you till you’re copper-coloured, I’ll break your faces till you haven’t a profile between you, I will.”
“Come, you drop that stick or it’ll be worse for you,” said his boy, dodging round him and watching an opportunity to rush in; “you drop that stick.”
“Come a little nearer, and I’ll drop it on your skull you dog,” said Quilp with gleaming eyes; “a little nearer—nearer yet.”
But the boy declined the invitation until his master was apparently a little off his guard, when he darted in and seizing the weapon tried to wrest it from his grasp. Quilp, who was as strong as a lion, easily kept his hold until the boy was tugging at it with his utmost power, when he suddenly let it go and sent him reeling backwards, so that he fell violently upon his head. The success of this manoeuvre tickled Mr. Quilp beyond description, and he laughed and stamped upon the ground as at a most irresistible jest.
“Never mind” said the boy, nodding his head and rubbing it at the same time; “you see if ever I offer to strike anybody again because they say you’re a uglier dwarf than can be seen anywhers for a penny, that’s all.”
“Do you mean to say, I’m not, you dog?” returned Quilp.
“No!” retorted the boy.
“Then what do you fight on my wharf for, you villain?” said Quilp.
“Because he said so,” replied the boy, pointing to Kit, “not because you an’t.”
“Then why did he say” bawled Kit, “that Miss Nelly was ugly, and that she and my master was obliged to do whatever his master liked? Why did he say that?”
“He said what he did because he’s a fool, and you said what you did because you’re very wise and clever—almost too clever to live unless you’re very careful of yourself, Kit,” said Quilp with great suavity in his manner, but still more of quiet malice about his eyes and mouth. “Here’s sixpence for you Kit. Always speak the truth. At all times, Kit, speak the truth. Lock the countinghouse you dog, and bring me the key.”
The other boy, to whom this order was addressed, did as he was told, and was rewarded for his partisanship in behalf of his master, by a dexterous rap on the nose with the key, which brought the water into his eyes. Then Mr. Quilp departed with the child and Kit in a boat, and the boy revenged himself by dancing on his head at intervals on the extreme verge of the wharf, during the whole time they crossed the river.
There was only Mrs. Quilp at home, and she, little expecting the return of her lord, was just composing herself for a refreshing slumber when the sound of his footsteps roused her. She had barely time to seem to be occupied in some needlework, when he entered, accompanied by the child; having left Kit downstairs.
“Here’s Nelly Trent, dear Mrs. Quilp,” said her husband. “A glass of wine my dear, and a biscuit, for she has had a long walk. She’ll sit with you my soul, while I write a letter.”
Mrs. Quilp looked tremblingly in her spouse’s face to know what this unusual courtesy might portend, and obedient to the summons she saw in his gesture, followed him into the next room.
“Mind what I say to you,” whispered Quilp. “See if you can get out of her anything
