"And when," said Mr.Pickwick, "when is this villainous design to be carried into execution--when is this elopement to take place?""To-night, sir," replied Job.
"To-night!" exclaimed Mr.Pickwick.
"This very night, sir," replied Job Trotter."That is what alarms me so much.""Instant measures must be taken," said Mr.Pickwick."I will see the lady who keeps the establishment immediately.""I beg your pardon, sir," said Job, "but that course of proceeding will never do.""Why not?" inquired Mr.Pickwick.
"My master, sir, is a very artful man."
"I know he is," said Mr.Pickwick.
"And he has so wound himself round the old lady's heart, sir," resumed Job, "that she would believe nothing to his prejudice, if you went down on your bare knees, and swore it; especially as you have no proof but the word of a servant, who, for anything she knows (and my master would be sure to say so), was discharged for some fault, and does this in revenge.""What had better be done, then?" said Mr.Pickwick.
"Nothing but taking him in the very fact of eloping, will convince the old lady, sir," replied Job.
"All them old cats will run their heads agin mile-stones," observed Mr.Weller in a parenthesis.
"But this taking him in the very act of elopement, would be a very difficult thing to accomplish, I fear," said Mr.Pickwick.
"I don't know, sir," said Mr.Trotter, after a few moments' reflection.
"I think it might be very easily done."
"How?" was Mr.Pickwick's inquiry.
"Why," replied Mr.Trotter, "my master and I, being in the confidence of the two servants, will be secreted in the kitchen at ten o'clock.When the family have retired to rest, we shall come out of the kitchen, and the young lady out of her bed-room.A post-chaise will be waiting, and away we go.""Well?" said Mr.Pickwick.
"Well, sir, I have been thinking that if you were in waiting in the garden behind, alone--""Alone," said Mr.Pickwick."Why alone?"
"I thought it very natural," replied Job, "that the old lady wouldn't like such an unpleasant discovery to be made before more persons than can possibly be helped.The young lady too, sir--consider her feelings.""You are very right," said Mr.Pickwick."The consideration evinces your delicacy of feeling.Go on; you are very right.""Well, sir, I have been thinking that if you were waiting in the back garden alone, and I was to let you in, at the door which opens into it, from the end of the passage, at exactly half-past eleven o'clock, you would be just in the very moment of time to assist me in frustrating the designs of this bad man, by whom I have been unfortunately ensnared." Here Mr.
Trotter sighed deeply.
"Don't distress yourself on that account," said Mr.Pickwick, "if he had one grain of the delicacy of feeling which distinguishes you, humble as your station is, I should have some hopes of him."Job Trotter bowed low; and in spite of Mr.Weller's previous remonstrance, the tears again rose to his eyes.
"I never see such a feller," said Sam."Blessed if I don't think he's got a main in his head as is always turned on.""Sam," said Mr.Pickwick, with great severity."Hold your tongue.""Wery well, sir," replied Mr.Weller.
"I don't like this plan," said Mr.Pickwick, after deep meditation.
"Why cannot I communicate with the young lady's friends?""Because they live one hundred miles from here, sir," responded Job Trotter.
"That's a clincher," said Mr.Weller, aside.
"Then this garden," resumed Mr.Pickwick."How am I to get into it?""The wall is very low, sir, and your servant will give you a leg up.""My servant will give me a leg up," repeated Mr.Pickwick, mechanically.
"You will be sure to be near this door that you speak of?""You cannot mistake it, sir; it's the only one that opens into the garden.
Tap at it when you hear the clock strike, and I will open it instantly.""I don't like the plan," said Mr.Pickwick; "but as I see no other, and as the happiness of this young lady's whole life is at stake, I adopt it.I shall be sure to be there."Thus, for the second time, did Mr.Pickwick's innate good-feeling involve him in an enterprise from which he would most willingly have stood aloof.
"What is the name of the house?" inquired Mr.Pickwick.
"Westgate House, sir.You turn a little to the right when you get to the end of the town; it stands by itself, some little distance off the high road, with the name on a brass plate on the gate.""I know it," said Mr.Pickwick."I observed it once before, when I was in this town.You may depend upon me."Mr.Trotter made another bow, and turned to depart, when Mr.Pickwick thrust a guinea into his hand.
"You're a fine fellow," said Mr.Pickwick, "and I admire your goodness of heart.No thanks.Remember--eleven o'clock.""There is no fear of my forgetting it, sir," replied Job Trotter.With these words he left the room, followed by Sam.
"I say," said the latter, "not a bad notion that 'ere crying.I'd cry like a rain-water spout in a shower on such good terms.How do you do it?""It comes from the heart, Mr.Walker," replied Job, solemnly."Good morning, sir.""You're a soft customer, you are;--we've got it all out o' you, any how," thought Mr.Weller, as Job walked away.
We cannot state the precise nature of the thoughts which passed through Mr.Trotter's mind, because we don't know what they were.
The day wore on, evening came, and a little before ten o'clock Sam Weller reported that Mr.Jingle and Job had gone out together, that their luggage was packed up, and that they had ordered a chaise.The plot was evidently in execution, as Mr.Trotter had foretold.
Half-past ten o'clock arrived, and it was time for Mr.Pickwick to issue forth on his delicate errand.Resisting Sam's tender of his great coat, in order that he might have no encumbrance in scaling the wall, he set forth, followed by his attendant.
