CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
IN WHICH SOME PEOPLE ARE PRECOCIOUS, OTHERS PROFESSIONAL, AND OTHERSMYSTERIOUS; ALL IN THEIR SEVERAL WAYS
It may have been the restless remembrance of what he had seen and heardovernight, or it may have been no deeper mental operation than thediscovery that he had nothing to do, which caused Mr Bailey, on thefollowing afternoon, to feel particularly disposed for agreeablesociety, and prompted him to pay a visit to his friend Poll Sweedlepipe.
On the little bell giving clamorous notice of a visitor's approach (forMr Bailey came in at the door with a lunge, to get as much sound out ofthe bell as possible), Poll Sweedlepipe desisted from the contemplationof a favourite owl, and gave his young friend hearty welcome.
'Why, you look smarter by day,' said Poll, 'than you do by candle-light.I never see such a tight young dasher.'
'Reether so, Polly. How's our fair friend, Sairah?'
'Oh, she's pretty well,' said Poll. 'She's at home.'
'There's the remains of a fine woman about Sairah, Poll,' observed MrBailey, with genteel indifference.
'Oh!' thought Poll, 'he's old. He must be very old!'
'Too much crumb, you know,' said Mr Bailey; 'too fat, Poll. But there'smany worse at her time of life.'
'The very owl's a-opening his eyes!' thought Poll. 'I don't wonder at itin a bird of his opinions.'
He happened to have been sharpening his razors, which were lying openin a row, while a huge strop dangled from the wall. Glancing at thesepreparations, Mr Bailey stroked his chin, and a thought appeared tooccur to him.
'Poll,' he said, 'I ain't as neat as I could wish about the gills. Beinghere, I may as well have a shave, and get trimmed close.'
The barber stood aghast; but Mr Bailey divested himself of hisneck-cloth, and sat down in the easy shaving chair with all the dignityand confidence in life. There was no resisting his manner. The evidenceof sight and touch became as nothing. His chin was as smooth as anew-laid egg or a scraped Dutch cheese; but Poll Sweedlepipe wouldn'thave ventured to deny, on affidavit, that he had the beard of a Jewishrabbi.
'Go WITH the grain, Poll, all round, please,' said Mr Bailey, screwingup his face for the reception of the lather. 'You may do wot you likewith the bits of whisker. I don't care for 'em.'
The meek little barber stood gazing at him with the brush and soap-dishin his hand, stirring them round and round in a ludicrous uncertainty,as if he were disabled by some fascination from beginning. At last hemade a dash at Mr Bailey's cheek. Then he stopped again, as if theghost of a beard had suddenly receded from his touch; but receiving mildencouragement from Mr Bailey, in the form of an adjuration to 'Go in andwin,' he lathered him bountifully. Mr Bailey smiled through the suds inhis satisfaction. 'Gently over the stones, Poll. Go a tip-toe over thepimples!'
Poll Sweedlepipe obeyed, and scraped the lather off again withparticular care. Mr Bailey squinted at every successive dab, as itwas deposited on a cloth on his left shoulder, and seemed, with amicroscopic eye, to detect some bristles in it; for he murmured morethan once 'Reether redder than I could wish, Poll.' The operation beingconcluded, Poll fell back and stared at him again, while Mr Bailey,wiping his face on the jack-towel, remarked, 'that arter late hoursnothing freshened up a man so much as a easy shave.'
He was in the act of tying his cravat at the glass, without his coat,and Poll had wiped his razor, ready for the next customer, when MrsGamp, coming downstairs, looked in at the shop-door to give the barberneighbourly good day. Feeling for her unfortunate situation, in havingconceived a regard for himself which it was not in the nature of thingsthat he could return, Mr Bailey hastened to soothe her with words ofkindness.
'Hallo!' he said, 'Sairah! I needn't ask you how you've been this longtime, for you're in full bloom. All a-blowin and a-growin; ain't she,Polly?'
'Why, drat the Bragian boldness of that boy!' cried Mrs Gamp, thoughnot displeased. 'What a imperent young sparrow it is! I wouldn't be thatcreetur's mother not for fifty pound!'
Mr Bailey regarded this as a delicate confession of her attachment,and a hint that no pecuniary gain could recompense her for its beingrendered hopeless. He felt flattered. Disinterested affection is alwaysflattering.
'Ah, dear!' moaned Mrs Gamp, sinking into the shaving chair, 'that thereblessed Bull, Mr Sweedlepipe, has done his wery best to conker me. Ofall the trying inwalieges in this walley of the shadder, that one beats'em black and blue.'
It was the practice of Mrs Gamp and her friends in the profession, tosay this of all the easy customers; as having at once the effect ofdiscouraging competitors for office, and accounting for the necessity ofhigh living on the part of the nurses.
'Talk of constitooshun!' Mrs Gamp observed. 'A person's constitooshunneed be made of bricks to stand it. Mrs Harris jestly says to me, butt'other day, "Oh! Sairey Gamp," she says, "how is it done?" "Mrs Harris,ma'am," I says to her, "we gives no trust ourselves, and puts a dealo'trust elsevere; these is our religious feelins, and we finds 'emanswer." "Sairey," says Mrs Harris, "sech is life. Vich likeways is thehend of all things!"'
The barber gave a soft murmur, as much as to say that Mrs Harris'sremark, though perhaps not quite so intelligible as could be desiredfrom such an authority, did equal honour to her head and to her heart.
'And here,' continued Mrs Gamp, 'and here am I a-goin twenty mile indistant, on as wentersome a chance as ever any one as monthlied everrun, I do believe. Says Mrs Harris, with a woman's and a mother'sart a-beatin in her human breast, she says to me, "You're not a-goin,Sairey, Lord forgive you!" "Why am I not a-goin, Mrs Harris?" I replies."Mrs Gill," I says, "wos never wrong with six; and is it likely,ma'am--I ast you as a mother--that she will begin to be unreg'lar now?Often and often have I heerd him say," I says to Mrs Harris, meaning MrGill, "that he would back his wife agen Moore's almanack, to name thevery day and hour, for ninepence farden. IS it likely, ma'am," I says,"as she will fail this once?" Says Mrs Harris "No, ma'am, not in thecourse of natur. But," she says, the tears a-fillin in her eyes, "youknows much betterer than me, with your experienge, how little puts usout. A Punch's show," she says, "a chimbley sweep, a newfundlan dog, ora drunkin man a-comin round the corner sharp may do it." So it may, MrSweedlepipes,' said Mrs Gamp, 'there's no deniging of it; and though mybooks is clear for a full week, I takes a anxious art along with me, Ido assure you, sir.'
'You're so full of zeal, you see!' said Poll. 'You worrit yourself so.'
'Worrit myself!' cried Mrs Gamp, raising her hands and turning up hereyes. 'You speak truth in that, sir, if you never speaks no more 'twixtthis and when two Sundays jines together. I feels the sufferins of otherpeople more than I feels my own, though no one mayn't suppoge it. Thefamilies I've had,' said Mrs Gamp, 'if all was knowd and credit donewhere credit's doo, would take a week to chris'en at Saint Polge'sfontin!'
'Where's the patient goin?' asked Sweedlepipe.
'Into Har'fordshire, which is his native air. But native airs nor nativegraces neither,' Mrs Gamp observed, 'won't bring HIM round.'
'So bad as that?' inquired the wistful barber. 'Indeed!'
Mrs Gamp shook her head mysteriously, and pursed up her lips. 'There'sfevers of the mind,' she said, 'as well as body. You may take your slimedrafts till you flies into the air with efferwescence; but you won'tcure that.'
'Ah!' said the barber, opening his eyes, and putting on his ravenaspect; 'Lor!'
'No. You may make yourself as light as any gash balloon,' said Mrs Gamp.'But talk, when you're wrong in your head and when you're in your sleep,of certain things; and you'll be heavy in your mind.'
'Of what kind of things now?' inquired Poll, greedily biting his nailsin his great interest. 'Ghosts?'
Mrs Gamp, who perhaps had been already tempted further than she hadintended to go, by the barber's stimulating curiosity, gave a sniff ofuncommon significance, and said, it didn't signify.
'I'm a-goin down with my patient in the coach this arternoon,' sheproceeded. 'I'm a-goin to stop with him a day or so, till
he gets acountry nuss (drat them country nusses, much the orkard hussies knowsabout their bis'ness); and then I'm a-comin back; and that's my trouble,Mr Sweedlepipes. But I hope that everythink'll only go on right andcomfortable as long as I'm away; perwisin which, as Mrs Harris says, MrsGill is welcome to choose her own time; all times of the day and nightbein' equally the same to me.'
During the progress of the foregoing remarks, which Mrs Gamp hadaddressed exclusively to the barber, Mr Bailey had been tying hiscravat, getting on his coat, and making hideous faces at himself in theglass. Being now personally addressed by Mrs Gamp, he turned round, andmingled in the conversation.
'You ain't been in the City, I suppose, sir, since we was all threethere together,' said Mrs Gamp, 'at Mr Chuzzlewit's?'
'Yes, I have, Sairah. I was there last night.'
'Last night!' cried the barber.
'Yes, Poll, reether so. You can call it this morning, if you like to beparticular. He dined with us.'
'Who does that young Limb mean by "hus?"' said Mrs Gamp, with mostimpatient emphasis.
'Me and my Governor, Sairah. He dined at our house. We wos very merry,Sairah. So much so, that I was obliged to see him home in a hackneycoach at three o'clock in the morning.' It was on the tip of the boy'stongue to relate what had followed; but remembering how easily it mightbe carried to his master's ears, and the repeated cautions he had hadfrom Mr Crimple 'not to chatter,' he checked himself; adding, only, 'Shewas sitting up, expecting him.'
'And all things considered,' said Mrs Gamp sharply, 'she might haveknow'd better than to go a-tirin herself out, by doin' anythink of thesort. Did they seem pretty pleasant together, sir?'
'Oh, yes,' answered Bailey, 'pleasant enough.'
'I'm glad on it,' said Mrs Gamp, with a second sniff of significance.
'They haven't been married so long,' observed Poll, rubbing his hands,'that they need be anything but pleasant yet awhile.'
'No,' said Mrs Gamp, with a third significant signal.
'Especially,' pursued the barber, 'when the gentleman bears such acharacter as you gave him.'
'I speak; as I find, Mr Sweedlepipes,' said Mrs Gamp. 'Forbid it shouldbe otherways! But we never knows wot's hidden in each other's hearts;and if we had glass winders there, we'd need keep the shetters up, someon us, I do assure you!'
'But you don't mean to say--' Poll Sweedlepipe began.
'No,' said Mrs Gamp, cutting him very short, 'I don't. Don't think I do.The torters of the Imposition shouldn't make me own I did. All I saysis,' added the good woman, rising and folding her shawl about her, 'thatthe Bull's a-waitin, and the precious moments is a-flyin' fast.'
The little barber having in his eager curiosity a great desire to seeMrs Gamp's patient, proposed to Mr Bailey that they should accompanyher to the Bull, and witness the departure of the coach. That younggentleman assenting, they all went out together.
Arriving at the tavern, Mrs Gamp (who was full-dressed for the journey,in her latest suit of mourning) left her friends to entertainthemselves in the yard, while she ascended to the sick room, where herfellow-labourer Mrs Prig was dressing the invalid.
He was so wasted, that it seemed as if his bones would rattle when theymoved him. His cheeks were sunken, and his eyes unnaturally large. Helay back in the easy-chair like one more dead than living; and rolledhis languid eyes towards the door when Mrs Gamp appeared, as painfullyas if their weight alone were burdensome to move.
'And how are we by this time?' Mrs Gamp observed. 'We looks charming.'
'We looks a deal charminger than we are, then,' returned Mrs Prig, alittle chafed in her temper. 'We got out of bed back'ards, I think, forwe're as cross as two sticks. I never see sich a man. He wouldn't havebeen washed, if he'd had his own way.'
'She put the soap in my mouth,' said the unfortunate patient feebly.
'Couldn't you keep it shut then?' retorted Mrs Prig. 'Who do you think'sto wash one feater, and miss another, and wear one's eyes out with allmanner of fine work of that description, for half-a-crown a day! If youwants to be tittivated, you must pay accordin'.'
'Oh dear me!' cried the patient, 'oh dear, dear!'
'There!' said Mrs Prig, 'that's the way he's been a-conductin ofhimself, Sarah, ever since I got him out of bed, if you'll believe it.'
'Instead of being grateful,' Mrs Gamp observed, 'for all our littleways. Oh, fie for shame, sir, fie for shame!'
Here Mrs Prig seized the patient by the chin, and began to rasp hisunhappy head with a hair-brush.
'I suppose you don't like that, neither!' she observed, stopping to lookat him.
It was just possible that he didn't for the brush was a specimen ofthe hardest kind of instrument producible by modern art; and his veryeyelids were red with the friction. Mrs Prig was gratified to observethe correctness of her supposition, and said triumphantly 'she know'd asmuch.'
When his hair was smoothed down comfortably into his eyes, Mrs Prig andMrs Gamp put on his neckerchief; adjusting his shirt collar with greatnicety, so that the starched points should also invade those organs, andafflict them with an artificial ophthalmia. His waistcoat and coatwere next arranged; and as every button was wrenched into a wrongbutton-hole, and the order of his boots was reversed, he presented onthe whole rather a melancholy appearance.
'I don't think it's right,' said the poor weak invalid. 'I feel as if Iwas in somebody else's clothes. I'm all on one side; and you've made oneof my legs shorter than the other. There's a bottle in my pocket too.What do you make me sit upon a bottle for?'
'Deuce take the man!' cried Mrs Gamp, drawing it forth. 'If he ain'tbeen and got my night-bottle here. I made a little cupboard of his coatwhen it hung behind the door, and quite forgot it, Betsey. You'll find aingun or two, and a little tea and sugar in his t'other pocket, my dear,if you'll just be good enough to take 'em out.'
Betsey produced the property in question, together with some otherarticles of general chandlery; and Mrs Gamp transferred them to her ownpocket, which was a species of nankeen pannier. Refreshment then arrivedin the form of chops and strong ale for the ladies, and a basin ofbeef-tea for the patient; which refection was barely at an end when JohnWestlock appeared.
'Up and dressed!' cried John, sitting down beside him. 'That's brave.How do you feel?'
'Much better. But very weak.'
'No wonder. You have had a hard bout of it. But country air, and changeof scene,' said John, 'will make another man of you! Why, Mrs Gamp,'he added, laughing, as he kindly arranged the sick man's garments, 'youhave odd notions of a gentleman's dress!'
'Mr Lewsome an't a easy gent to get into his clothes, sir,' Mrs Gampreplied with dignity; 'as me and Betsey Prig can certify afore the LordMayor and Uncommon Counsellors, if needful!'
John at that moment was standing close in front of the sick man, in theact of releasing him from the torture of the collars before mentioned,when he said in a whisper:
'Mr Westlock! I don't wish to be overheard. I have something veryparticular and strange to say to you; something that has been a dreadfulweight on my mind, through this long illness.'
Quick in all his motions, John was turning round to desire the women toleave the room; when the sick man held him by the sleeve.
'Not now. I've not the strength. I've not the courage. May I tell itwhen I have? May I write it, if I find that easier and better?'
'May you!' cried John. 'Why, Lewsome, what is this!'
'Don't ask me what it is. It's unnatural and cruel. Frightful to thinkof. Frightful to tell. Frightful to know. Frightful to have helped in.Let me kiss your hand for all your goodness to me. Be kinder still, anddon't ask me what it is!'
At first, John gazed at him in great surprise; but remembering how verymuch reduced he was, and how recently his brain had been on fire withfever, believed that he was labouring under some imaginary horror ordespondent fancy. For farther information on this point, he took anopportunity of drawing Mrs Gamp aside, while Betsey Prig was wrappinghim in cloaks and shawls, and ask
ed her whether he was quite collectedin his mind.
'Oh bless you, no!' said Mrs Gamp. 'He hates his nusses to this hour.They always does it, sir. It's a certain sign. If you could have heerdthe poor dear soul a-findin fault with me and Betsey Prig, not half anhour ago, you would have wondered how it is we don't get fretted to thetomb.'
This almost confirmed John in his suspicion; so, not taking what hadpassed into any serious account, he resumed his former cheerful manner,and assisted by Mrs Gamp and Betsey Prig, conducted Lewsome downstairsto the coach; just then upon the point of starting. Poll Sweedlepipewas at the door with his arms tight folded and his eyes wide open, andlooked on with absorbing interest, while the sick man was slowlymoved into the vehicle. His bony hands and haggard face impressed Pollwonderfully; and he informed Mr Bailey in confidence, that he wouldn'thave missed seeing him for a pound. Mr Bailey, who was of a differentconstitution, remarked that he would have stayed away for fiveshillings.
It was a troublesome matter to adjust Mrs Gamp's luggage to hersatisfaction; for every package belonging to that lady had theinconvenient property of requiring to be put in a boot by itself, andto have no other luggage near it, on pain of actions at law for heavydamages against the proprietors of the coach. The umbrella with thecircular patch was particularly hard to be got rid of, and several timesthrust out its battered brass nozzle from improper crevices and chinks,to the great terror of the other passengers. Indeed, in her intenseanxiety to find a haven of refuge for this chattel, Mrs Gamp so oftenmoved it, in the course of five minutes, that it seemed not one umbrellabut fifty. At length it was lost, or said to be; and for the next fiveminutes she was face to face with the coachman, go wherever he might,protesting that it should be 'made good,' though she took the questionto the House of Commons.
At last, her bundle, and her pattens, and her basket, and everythingelse, being disposed of, she took a friendly leave of Poll and MrBailey, dropped a curtsey to John Westlock, and parted as from acherished member of the sisterhood with Betsey Prig.
'Wishin you lots of sickness, my darlin creetur,' Mrs Gamp observed,'and good places. It won't be long, I hope, afore we works together, offand on, again, Betsey; and may our next meetin' be at a large family's,where they all takes it reg'lar, one from another, turn and turn about,and has it business-like.'
'I don't care how soon it is,' said Mrs Prig; 'nor how many weeks itlasts.'
Mrs Gamp with a reply in a congenial spirit was backing to the coach,when she came in contact with a lady and gentleman who were passingalong the footway.
'Take care, take care here!' cried the gentleman. 'Halloo! My dear! Why,it's Mrs Gamp!'
'What, Mr Mould!' exclaimed the nurse. 'And Mrs Mould! who would havethought as we should ever have a meetin' here, I'm sure!'
'Going out of town, Mrs Gamp?' cried Mould. 'That's unusual, isn't it?'
'It IS unusual, sir,' said Mrs Gamp. 'But only for a day or two at most.The gent,' she whispered, 'as I spoke about.'
'What, in the coach!' cried Mould. 'The one you thought of recommending?Very odd. My dear, this will interest you. The gentleman that Mrs Gampthought likely to suit us is in the coach, my love.'
Mrs Mould was greatly interested.
'Here, my dear. You can stand upon the door-step,' said Mould, 'and takea look at him. Ha! There he is. Where's my glass? Oh! all right. I'vegot it. Do you see him, my dear?'
'Quite plain,' said Mrs Mould.
'Upon my life, you know, this is a very singular circumstance,' saidMould, quite delighted. 'This is the sort of thing, my dear, I wouldn'thave missed on any account. It tickles one. It's interesting. It'salmost a little play, you know. Ah! There he is! To be sure. Lookspoorly, Mrs M., don't he?'
Mrs Mould assented.
'He's coming our way, perhaps, after all,' said Mould. 'Who knows! Ifeel as if I ought to show him some little attention, really. He don'tseem a stranger to me. I'm very much inclined to move my hat, my dear.'
'He's looking hard this way,' said Mrs Mould.
'Then I will!' cried Mould. 'How d'ye do, sir! I wish you good day. Ha!He bows too. Very gentlemanly. Mrs Gamp has the cards in her pocket, Ihave no doubt. This is very singular, my dear--and very pleasant. I amnot superstitious, but it really seems as if one was destined to pay himthose little melancholy civilities which belong to our peculiar line ofbusiness. There can be no kind of objection to your kissing your hand tohim, my dear.'
Mrs Mould did so.
'Ha!' said Mould. 'He's evidently gratified. Poor fellow! I am quiteglad you did it, my love. Bye bye, Mrs Gamp!' waving his hand. 'There hegoes; there he goes!'
So he did; for the coach rolled off as the words were spoken. Mr and MrsMould, in high good humour, went their merry way. Mr Bailey retiredwith Poll Sweedlepipe as soon as possible; but some little timeelapsed before he could remove his friend from the ground, owing tothe impression wrought upon the barber's nerves by Mrs Prig, whom hepronounced, in admiration of her beard, to be a woman of transcendentcharms.
When the light cloud of bustle hanging round the coach was thusdispersed, Nadgett was seen in the darkest box of the Bull coffee-room,looking wistfully up at the clock--as if the man who never appeared werea little behind his time.