Page:The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club.djvu/397

321 THE PICKWICK CLUB. 921

Ma'am/ * They're my husband's buttons,' says the widder, beginnin' to faint. * What I' screams the little old gen'lm'n, turnin' wery pale. *I see it all,' says the widder ; ' in a fit of temporary insanity he rashly converted his-self into sassages !* And so he had, Sir/' said Mr. Weller, looking steadily into Mr. Pickwick's horror-stricken countenance, " or else he'd been draw'd into the ingine, but however that might ha' been, the little old gen'lm'n, who had been remarkably partial to sassages all his life, rushed out o' the shop in a wild state, and was never heerd on artervards I "

The relation of this affecting incident of private life, brought master and man to Mr. Perker's chambers. Lowten, holding the door half open, was in conversation with a rustily-clad, miserable looking man, in boots without toes, and gloves without fingers. There were traces of privation and suffering — almost of despair — in his lank and care-worn countenance ; he felt his poverty, for he shrunk to the dark side of the staircase as Mr. Pickwick approached.

" It's very unfortunate," said the stranger with a sigh.

" Very," said Lowten, scribbling his name on the door post with his pen and rubbing it out again with the feather. " Will you leave a mes- sage for him ? "

" When do you think he'll be back ? " enquired the stranger.

" Quite uncertain," replied Lowten, winking at Mr. Pickwick, as the stranger cast his eyes towards the ground.

" You don't think it would be of any use my waiting for him ?" said the stranger, looking wistfully into the office.

" Oh no, I'm sure it wouldn't," replied the clerk, moving a little more into the centre of the door-way. " He's certain not to be back this week, and it's a chance whether he will, next, for when Perker once gets out of town, he's never in a hurry to come back again."

" Out of town !" said Mr. Pickwick; " dear me, how unfortunate !" '

you." The stranger seeming to hesitate, once more looked towards the ground, and the clerk winked slily at Mr. Pickwick as if to intimate that some exquisite piece of humour was going forward ; though what it was, Mr. Pickwick could not, for the life of him, divine.
 * ' Don't go away, Mr. Pickwick," said Lowten, '^ I've got a letter for

" Step in, Mr. Pickwick," said Lowten. " Well, will you leave a mes-. sage, Mr. Watty, or will you call again ? "

" Ask him to be so kind as to leave out word what has been done in my business/' said the man ; " for God's sake don't neglect it, Mr. Lowten/'

" No, no ; I won't forget it/' replied the clerk. " Walk in, Mr. Pick- wick. Good morning, Mr. Watty ; it's a fine day for walking, isn't it?" And, seeing that the stranger still lingered, he beckoned Sam Weller to follow his master in, and shut the door in his face.

" There never was such a pestering bankrupt as that, since the world began, I do believe !" said Lowten, throwing down his pen with the air of an injured man. " His affairs haven't been in chancery quite four years yet, and I'm d — d if he don't come worrying here twice a-week. Step this way, Mr. Pickwick. Perker is in, and he'll see you, J know.