The house was no longer theirs. Even the sick chamber seemed to be retained on the uncertain tenure of Mr. Quilp’s favour. The old man’s illness had not lasted many days when he took formal possession of the premises and all upon them, in virtue of certain legal powers to that effect, which few understood and none presumed to call in question. This important step secured, with the assistance of a man of law whom he brought with him for the purpose, the dwarf proceeded to establish himself and his coadjutor in the house, as an assertion of his claim against all comers; and then set about making his quarters comfortable after his own fashion.
To this end, Mr. Quilp encamped in the back parlour, having first put an effectual stop to any further business by shutting up the shop. Having looked out from among the old furniture the handsomest and most commodious chair he could possibly find, which he reserved for his own use, and an especially hideous and uncomfortable one, which he considerately appropriated to the accomodation of his friend, he caused them to be carried into this room and took up his position in great state. The apartment was very far removed from the old man’s chamber, but Mr. Quilp deemed it prudent, as a precaution against infection from fever, and a means of wholesome fumigation, not only to smoke himself without cessation, but to insist upon it that his legal friend did the like. Moreover, he sent an express to the wharf for the tumbling boy, who arriving with all despatch was enjoined to sit himself down in another chair just inside the door, continually to smoke a great pipe which the dwarf had provided for the purpose, and to take it from his lips under any pretence whatever, were it only for one minute at a time, if he dared. These arrangements completed, Mr. Quilp looked round him with chuckling satisfaction, and remarked that he called that comfort.
The legal gentleman, whose melodious name was Brass, might have called it comfort also but for two drawbacks; one was that he could by no exertion sit easily in his chair, the seat of which was very hard, angular, slippery, and sloping; the other that tobacco-smoke always caused him great internal discomposure and annoyance. But as he was quite a creature of Mr. Quilp’s and had a thousand reasons for conciliating his good opinion, he tried to smile, and nodded his acquiescence with the best grace he could assume.
This Brass was an attorney of no very good repute from Bevis Marks in the city of London; he was a tall, meagre man, with a nose like a wen, a protruding forehead, retreating eyes, and hair of a deep red. He wore a long black surtout reaching nearly to his ankles, short black trousers, high shoes, and cotton stockings of a blueish grey. He had a cringing manner but a very harsh voice, and his blandest smiles were so extremely forbidding, that to have had his company under the least repulsive circumstances, one would have wished him to be out of temper that he might only scowl.
Quilp looked at his legal adviser, and seeing that he was winking very much in the anguish of his pipe, that he sometimes shuddered when he happened to inhale its full flavour, and that he constantly fanned the smoke from him, was quite overjoyed and rubbed his hands with glee.
“Smoke away you dog,” said Quilp turning to the boy; “fill your pipe again and smoke it fast, down to the last whiff, or I’ll put the sealing-waxed end of it in the fire and rub it red hot upon your tongue.”
Luckily the boy was case-hardened, and would have smoked a small limekiln if anybody had treated him with it. Wherefore he only muttered a brief defiance of his master, and did as he was ordered.
“Is it good, Brass, is it nice, is it fragrant, do you feel like the Grand Turk?” said Quilp.
Mr. Brass thought that if he did, the Grand Turk’s feelings were by no means to be envied, but he said it was famous, and he had no doubt he felt very like that Potentate.
“This is the way to keep off fever,” said Quilp, “this is the way to keep off every calamity of life. We’ll never leave off all the time we stop here—smoke away you dog or you shall swallow the pipe.”
“Shall we stop here long, Mr. Quilp?” inquired his legal friend, when the dwarf had given his boy this last gentle admonition.
“We must stop, I suppose, till the old gentleman upstairs is dead,” returned Quilp.
“He he he!” laughed Mr. Brass, “oh! very good!”
“Smoke away!” cried Quilp. “Never stop! You can talk as you smoke. Don’t lose time.”
“He he he!” cried Brass faintly, as he again applied himself to the odious pipe. “But if he should get better Mr. Quilp?”
“Then we shall stop till he does, and no longer,” returned the dwarf.
“How kind it is of you sir to wait till then!” said Brass. “Some people sir would have sold or removed the goods—oh dear, the very instant the law allowed ’em. Some people sir would have been all flintiness and granite. Some people sir would have—”
“Some people would have spared themselves the jabbering of such a parrot as you,” interposed the dwarf.
“He he he!” cried Brass. “You have such spirits!”
The smoking sentinel at the door interposed in this place, and without taking his pipe from his lips, growled,
“Here’s the gal a comin’ down.”
“The what, you dog?” said Quilp.
“The gal,” returned the boy. “Are you deaf?”
“Oh!” said Quilp, drawing in his breath with great relish as if he were taking
