Charles Dickens - Sketches by Boz

“And what did Mrs. Parsons's father say, when he found you were married?” inquired Watkins Tottle, who, although he never saw a joke, was not satisfied until he heard a story to the very end.

“Why, the affair of the chimney so tickled his fancy, that he pardoned us off-hand, and allowed us something to live on till he went the way of all flesh. I spent the next night in his secondfloor front, much more comfortably than I had spent the preceding one; for, as you will probably guess—”

“Please, sir, missis has made tea,” said a middle-aged female servant, bobbing into the room.

“That's the very housemaid that figures in my story,” said Mr. Gabriel Parsons. “She went into Fanny's service when we were first married, and has been with us ever since; but I don't think she has felt one atom of respect for me since the morning she saw me released, when she went into violent hysterics, to which she has been subject ever since. Now, shall we join the ladies?”

“If you please,” said Mr. Watkins Tottle.

“By all means,” added the obsequious Mr. Timson; and the trio made for the drawing-room accordingly.

Tea being concluded, and the toast and cups having been duly handed, and occasionally upset, by Mr. Watkins Tottle, a rubber was proposed. They cut for partners—Mr. and Mrs. Parsons; and Mr. Watkins Tottle and Miss Lillerton. Mr. Timson having conscientious scruples on the subject of card-playing, drank brandy-and-water, and kept up a running spar with Mr. Watkins Tottle. The evening went off well; Mr. Watkins Tottle was in high spirits, having some reason to be gratified with his reception by Miss Lillerton; and before he left, a small party was made up to visit the Beulah Spa on the following Saturday.

“It's all right, I think,” said Mr. Gabriel Parsons to Mr. Watkins Tottle as he opened the garden gate for him.

“I hope so,” he replied, squeezing his friend's hand.

“You'll be down by the first coach on Saturday,” said Mr. Gabriel Parsons.

“Certainly,” replied Mr. Watkins Tottle. “Undoubtedly.”

But fortune had decreed that Mr. Watkins Tottle should not be down by the first coach on Saturday. His adventures on that day, however, and the success of his wooing, are subjects for another chapter.

“The first coach has not come in yet, has it, Tom?” inquired Mr. Gabriel Parsons, as he very complacently paced up and down the fourteen feet of gravel which bordered the “lawn,” on the Saturday morning which had been fixed upon for the Beulah Spa jaunt.

“No, sir; I haven't seen it,” replied a gardener in a blue apron, who let himself out to do the ornamental for half-a-crown a day and his “keep.”

“Time Tottle was down,” said Mr. Gabriel Parsons, ruminating—“Oh, here he is, no doubt,” added Gabriel, as a cab drove rapidly up the hill; and he buttoned his dressing-gown, and opened the gate to receive the expected visitor. The cab stopped, and out jumped a man in a coarse Petersham great-coat, whity-brown neckerchief, faded black suit, gamboge-coloured top-boots, and one of those large-crowned hats, formerly seldom met with, but now very generally patronised by gentlemen and costermongers.

“Mr. Parsons?” said the man, looking at the superscription of a note he held in his hand, and addressing Gabriel with an inquiring air.

“MY name is Parsons,” responded the sugar-baker.

“I've brought this here note,” replied the individual in the painted tops, in a hoarse whisper: “I've brought this here note from a gen'lm'n as come to our house this mornin”.”

“I expected the gentleman at my house,” said Parsons, as he broke the seal, which bore the impression of her Majesty's profile as it is seen on a sixpence.

“I've no doubt the gen'lm'n would ha” been here, replied the stranger, “if he hadn't happened to call at our house first; but we never trusts no gen'lm'n furder nor we can see him—no mistake about that there”—added the unknown, with a facetious grin; “beg your pardon, sir, no offence meant, only—once in, and I wish you may—catch the idea, sir?”

Mr. Gabriel Parsons was not remarkable for catching anything suddenly, but a cold. He therefore only bestowed a glance of profound astonishment on his mysterious companion, and proceeded to unfold the note of which he had been the bearer. Once opened and the idea was caught with very little difficulty. Mr. Watkins Tottle had been suddenly arrested for 33L. 10S. 4D., and dated his communication from a lock-up house in the vicinity of Chancerylane.

“Unfortunate affair this!” said Parsons, refolding the note.

“Oh! nothin” ven you're used to it,” coolly observed the man in the Petersham.

“Tom!” exclaimed Parsons, after a few minutes” consideration, “just put the horse in, will you?—Tell the gentleman that I shall be there almost as soon as you are,” he continued, addressing the sheriff-officer's Mercury.

“Werry well,” replied that important functionary; adding, in a confidential manner, “I'd adwise the gen'lm'n's friends to settle. You see it's a mere trifle; and, unless the gen'lm'n means to go up afore the court, it's hardly worth while waiting for detainers, you know. Our governor's wide awake, he is. I'll never say nothin” agin him, nor no man; but he knows what's o'clock, he does, uncommon.” Having delivered this eloquent, and, to Parsons, particularly intelligible harangue, the meaning of which was eked out by divers nods and winks, the gentleman in the boots reseated himself in the cab, which went rapidly off, and was soon out of sight. Mr. Gabriel Parsons continued to pace up and down the pathway for some minutes, apparently absorbed in deep meditation. The result of his cogitations seemed to be perfectly satisfactory to himself, for he ran briskly into the house; said that business had suddenly summoned him to town; that he had desired the messenger to inform Mr. Watkins Tottle of the fact; and that they would return together to dinner. He then hastily equipped himself for a drive, and mounting his gig, was soon on his way to the establishment of Mr. Solomon Jacobs, situate (as Mr. Watkins Tottle had informed him) in Cursitor-street, Chancery-lane.

When a man is in a violent hurry to get on, and has a specific object in view, the attainment of which depends on the completion of his journey, the difficulties which interpose themselves in his way appear not only to be innumerable, but to have been called into existence especially for the occasion. The remark is by no means a new one, and Mr. Gabriel Parsons had practical and painful experience of its justice in the course of his drive. There are three classes of animated objects which prevent your driving with any degree of comfort or celerity through streets which are but little frequented—they are pigs, children, and old women. On the occasion we are describing, the pigs were luxuriating on cabbagestalks, and the shuttlecocks fluttered from the little deal battledores, and the children played in the road; and women, with a basket in one hand, and the street-door key in the other, WOULD cross just before the horse's head, until Mr. Gabriel Parsons was perfectly savage with vexation, and quite hoarse with hoi-ing and imprecating. Then, when he got into Fleet-street, there was “a stoppage,” in which people in vehicles have the satisfaction of remaining stationary for half an hour, and envying the slowest pedestrians; and where policemen rush about, and seize hold of horses” bridles, and back them into shop-windows, by way of clearing the road and preventing confusion. At length Mr. Gabriel Parsons turned into Chancery-lane, and having inquired for, and been directed to Cursitor-street (for it was a locality of which he was quite ignorant), he soon found himself opposite the house of Mr. Solomon Jacobs. Confiding his horse and gig to the care of one of the fourteen boys who had followed him from the other side of Blackfriars-bridge on the chance of his requiring their services, Mr. Gabriel Parsons crossed the road and knocked at an inner door, the upper part of which was of glass, grated like the windows of this inviting mansion with iron bars—painted white to look comfortable.