Page:The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club.djvu/269

207 THE PICKWICK CLUB. 207

"^^sovereign cure for the gout," said Mr. Pickwick, hastily pro- arfcing his note-book, " what is it?"

arises from too much ease and comfort. If ever you're attacked with the gout. Sir, jist you marry a widder as has got a good loud woice, with a decent notion of usin' it, and you'll never have the gout agin. It's a capital prescription, Sir. I takes it reg'lar, and I can warrant it to drive away any illness as is caused by too much jollity." Having imparted this valuable secret, Mr. Weller drained his glass once more, produced a laboured wink, sighed deeply, and slowly retired.
 * ' The gout, Sir," replied Mr. Weller, *' the gout is a complaint as

" Well, what do you think of what your father says, Sam ? " inquired Mr. Pickwick, with a smile.

" Think, Sir I" replied Mr. Weller; *< why, I think he's the wictim o* connubiality, as Blue Beard's domestic chaplain said, with a tear of pity, ven he buried him."

There was no replying to this very apposite conclusion, and, there- fore, Mr. Pickwick, after settling the reckoning, resumed his walk to Gray's Inn. By the time he reached its secluded groves, however, eight o'clock had struck, and the unbroken stream of gentlemen in muddy high-lows, soiled white hats, and rusty apparel, who were pouring towards the different avenues of egress, warned him that the majority of the offices had closed for that day.

After climbing two pairs of steep and dirty stairs, he found his anticipations were realised. Mr. Perker's " outer door" was closed ; and the dead silence which followed Mr. Weller's repeated kicks thereat, announced that the officials had retired from business for the night.

" This is pleasant, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick ; " I shouldn't lose an hour in seeing him ; I shall not be able to get one wink of sleep to- night, I know, unless I have the satisfaction of reflecting that I have confided this matter to a professional man."

" Here's an old *ooman comin' up stairs. Sir," replied Mr. Weller ; " p'raps she knows where we can find somebody. Hallo, old lady, vere's Mr. Perker's people?"

" Mr. Perker's people," said a thin, miserable-looking old woman, stopping to recover breath after the ascent of the staircase, *' Mr. Perker's people's gone, and I'm a goin' to do the office out."


 * ' Are you Mr. Perker's servant?" inquired Mr. Pickwick.

" I am Mr. Perker's laundress," replied the old woman.

" Ah," said Mr. Pickwick, half aside to Sam, " it's a curious circum- stance, Sam, that they call the old women in these inns, laundresses. I wonder what's that for."

" 'Cos they has a mortal awersion to washing anythin', I suppose, Sir," replied Mr. Weller.

" I shouldn't wonder," said Mr. Pickwick, looking at the old woman, whose appearance as well as the condition of the office, which she had by this time opened, indicated a rooted antipathy to the application of soap and water ** do you know wher<» I can find Mr. Perker, my good woman ? "

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