the instantaneous performance of a dancing step, extremely difficult in its nature, and only to be achieved in a moment of ecstasy, which is commonly called The Frog’s Hornpipe. A manifestation so lively, brought to their immediate recollection the great virtuous precept, “Keep up appearances whatever you do,” in which they had been educated. They forbore at once, and jointly signified to Mr. Bailey that if he should presume to practice that figure any more in their presence, they would instantly acquaint Mrs. Todgers with the fact, and would demand his condign punishment, at the hands of that lady. The young gentleman having expressed the bitterness of his contrition by affecting to wipe away scalding tears with his apron, and afterwards feigning to wring a vast amount of water from that garment, held the door open while Miss Charity passed out; and so that damsel went in state upstairs to receive her mysterious adorer.

By some strange occurrence of favourable circumstances he had found out the drawing-room, and was sitting there alone.

“Ah, cousin!” he said. “Here I am, you see. You thought I was lost, I’ll be bound. Well! how do you find yourself by this time?”

Miss Charity replied that she was quite well, and gave Mr. Jonas Chuzzlewit her hand.

“That’s right,” said Mr. Jonas, “and you’ve got over the fatigues of the journey have you? I say. How’s the other one?”

“My sister is very well, I believe,” returned the young lady. “I have not heard her complain of any indisposition, sir. Perhaps you would like to see her, and ask her yourself?”

“No, no, cousin!” said Mr. Jonas, sitting down beside her on the window-seat. “Don’t be in a hurry. There’s no occasion for that, you know. What a cruel girl you are!”

“It’s impossible for you to know,” said Cherry, “whether I am or not.”

“Well, perhaps it is,” said Mr. Jonas. “I say! Did you think I was lost? You haven’t told me that.”

“I didn’t think at all about it,” answered Cherry.

“Didn’t you though?” said Jonas, pondering upon this strange reply. “⁠—Did the other one?”

“I am sure it’s impossible for me to say what my sister may, or may not have thought on such a subject,” cried Cherry. “She never said anything to me about it, one way or other.”

“Didn’t she laugh about it?” inquired Jonas.

“No. She didn’t even laugh about it,” answered Charity.

“She’s a terrible one to laugh, an’t she?” said Jonas, lowering his voice.

“She is very lively,” said Cherry.

“Liveliness is a pleasant thing⁠—when it don’t lead to spending money. An’t it?” asked Mr. Jonas.

“Very much so, indeed,” said Cherry, with a demureness of manner that gave a very disinterested character to her assent.

“Such liveliness as yours I mean, you know,” observed Mr. Jonas, as he nudged her with his elbow. “I should have come to see you before, but I didn’t know where you was. How quick you hurried off, that morning!”

“I was amenable to my papa’s directions,” said Miss Charity.

“I wish he had given me his direction,” returned her cousin, “and then I should have found you out before. Why, I shouldn’t have found you even now, if I hadn’t met him in the street this morning. What a sleek, sly chap he is! Just like a tomcat, an’t he?”

“I must trouble you to have the goodness to speak more respectfully of my papa, Mr. Jonas,” said Charity. “I can’t allow such a tone as that, even in jest.”

“Ecod, you may say what you like of my father, then, and so I give you leave,” said Jonas. “I think it’s liquid aggravation that circulates through his veins, and not regular blood. How old should you think my father was, cousin?”

“Old, no doubt,” replied Miss Charity; “but a fine old gentleman.”

“A fine old gentleman!” repeated Jonas, giving the crown of his hat an angry knock. “Ah! It’s time he was thinking of being drawn out a little finer too. Why, he’s eighty!”

“Is he, indeed?” said the young lady.

“And ecod,” cried Jonas, “now he’s gone so far without giving in, I don’t see much to prevent his being ninety; no, nor even a hundred. Why, a man with any feeling ought to be ashamed of being eighty, let alone more. Where’s his religion, I should like to know, when he goes flying in the face of the Bible like that? Threescore-and-ten’s the mark; and no man with a conscience, and a proper sense of what’s expected of him, has any business to live longer.”

Is anyone surprised at Mr. Jonas making such a reference to such a book for such a purpose? Does anyone doubt the old saw, that the Devil (being a layman) quotes Scripture for his own ends? If he will take the trouble to look about him, he may find a greater number of confirmations of the fact in the occurrences of any single day, than the steam-gun can discharge balls in a minute.

“But there’s enough of my father,” said Jonas; “it’s of no use to go putting one’s self out of the way by talking about him. I called to ask you to come and take a walk, cousin, and see some of the sights; and to come to our house afterwards, and have a bit of something. Pecksniff will most likely look in in the evening, he says, and bring you home. See, here’s his writing; I made him put it down this morning, when he told me he shouldn’t be back before I came here; in case you wouldn’t believe me. There’s nothing like proof, is there? Ha, ha! I say⁠—you’ll bring the other one, you know!”

Miss Charity cast her eyes upon her father’s autograph, which merely said: “Go, my children, with your cousin. Let there be union among us when it is possible;” and after enough of hesitation to impart a proper value to her consent, withdrew to prepare her sister and herself for the excursion. She soon returned, accompanied by Miss Mercy, who was by no means pleased to leave the brilliant triumphs

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