“That’s as good,” cried Jonas, “as saying it right out. It’s a bargain, cousin. We’re a pair, if ever there was one.”
This gallant speech was succeeded by a confused noise of kissing and slapping; and then the fair but much dishevelled Merry broke away, and followed in the footsteps of her sister.
Now whether Mr. Pecksniff had been listening—which in one of his character appears impossible; or divined almost by inspiration what the matter was—which, in a man of his sagacity is far more probable; or happened by sheer good fortune to find himself in exactly the right place, at precisely the right time—which, under the special guardianship in which he lived might very reasonably happen; it is quite certain that at the moment when the sisters came together in their own room, he appeared at the chamber door. And a marvellous contrast it was—they so heated, noisy, and vehement; he so calm, so self-possessed, so cool and full of peace, that not a hair upon his head was stirred.
“Children!” said Mr. Pecksniff, spreading out his hands in wonder, but not before he had shut the door, and set his back against it. “Girls! Daughters! What is this?”
“The wretch; the apostate; the false, mean, odious villain; has before my very face proposed to Mercy!” was his eldest daughter’s answer.
“Who has proposed to Mercy!” asked Mr. Pecksniff.
“He has. That thing, Jonas, downstairs.”
“Jonas proposed to Mercy?” said Mr. Pecksniff. “Aye, aye! Indeed!”
“Have you nothing else to say?” cried Charity. “Am I to be driven mad, papa? He has proposed to Mercy, not to me.”
“Oh, fie! For shame!” said Mr. Pecksniff, gravely. “Oh, for shame! Can the triumph of a sister move you to this terrible display, my child? Oh, really this is very sad! I am sorry; I am surprised and hurt to see you so. Mercy, my girl, bless you! See to her. Ah, envy, envy, what a passion you are!”
Uttering this apostrophe in a tone full of grief and lamentation, Mr. Pecksniff left the room (taking care to shut the door behind him), and walked downstairs into the parlour. There he found his intended son-in-law, whom he seized by both hands.
“Jonas!” cried Mr. Pecksniff. “Jonas! the dearest wish of my heart is now fulfilled!”
“Very well; I’m glad to hear it,” said Jonas. “That’ll do. I say! As it ain’t the one you’re so fond of, you must come down with another thousand, Pecksniff. You must make it up five. It’s worth that, to keep your treasure to yourself, you know. You get off very cheap that way, and haven’t a sacrifice to make.”
The grin with which he accompanied this, set off his other attractions to such unspeakable advantage, that even Mr. Pecksniff lost his presence of mind for a moment, and looked at the young man as if he were quite stupefied with wonder and admiration. But he quickly regained his composure, and was in the very act of changing the subject, when a hasty step was heard without, and Tom Pinch, in a state of great excitement, came darting into the room.
On seeing a stranger there, apparently engaged with Mr. Pecksniff in private conversation, Tom was very much abashed, though he still looked as if he had something of great importance to communicate, which would be a sufficient apology for his intrusion.
“Mr. Pinch,” said Pecksniff, “this is hardly decent. You will excuse my saying that I think your conduct scarcely decent, Mr. Pinch.”
“I beg your pardon, sir,” replied Tom, “for not knocking at the door.”
“Rather beg this gentleman’s pardon, Mr. Pinch,” said Pecksniff. “I know you; he does not. My young man, Mr. Jonas.”
The son-in-law that was to be gave him a slight nod—not actively disdainful or contemptuous, only passively; for he was in a good humour.
“Could I speak a word with you, sir, if you please?” said Tom. “It’s rather pressing.”
“It should be very pressing to justify this strange behaviour, Mr. Pinch,” returned his master. “Excuse me for one moment, my dear friend. Now, sir, what is the reason of this rough intrusion?”
“I am very sorry, sir, I am sure,” said Tom, standing, cap in hand, before his patron in the passage; “and I know it must have a very rude appearance—”
“It has a very rude appearance, Mr. Pinch.”
“Yes, I feel that, sir; but the truth is, I was so surprised to see them, and knew you would be too, that I ran home very fast indeed, and really hadn’t enough command over myself to know what I was doing very well. I was in the church just now, sir, touching the organ for my own amusement, when I happened to look round, and saw a gentleman and lady standing in the aisle listening. They seemed to be strangers, sir, as well as I could make out in the dusk; and I thought I didn’t know them; so presently I left off, and said, would they walk up into the organ-loft, or take a seat? No, they said, they wouldn’t do that; but they thanked me for the music they had heard. In fact,” observed Tom, blushing, “they said, ‘Delicious music!’ at least, she did; and I am sure that was a greater pleasure and honour to me than any compliment I could have had. I—I—beg your pardon sir;” he was all in a tremble, and dropped his hat for the second time “but I—I’m rather flurried, and I fear I’ve wandered from the point.”
“If you will come back to it, Thomas,” said Mr. Pecksniff, with an icy look, “I shall feel obliged.”
“Yes, sir,” returned Tom, “certainly. They had a posting carriage at the porch, sir, and had stopped to hear the organ, they said. And then they said—she said, I mean, ‘I believe you live with Mr. Pecksniff, sir?’ I said I had that honour, and I took the liberty, sir,” added Tom, raising his eyes to his benefactor’s face,
