"Which, sir, I will, though Mr. Bimby I won't answer for, 'im being
busy with the pore young man as 'e brought 'ome last night--it's 'im
as the brandy's for. Ye see, sir, though doleful, Mr. Bimby's very
kind 'earted, and 'e's always a-nussing somebody or something--last
time it were a dog with a broke leg--ah, I've knowed 'im bring 'ome
stray cats afore now, many's the time, and once a sparrer. But I'll
tell 'im, sir, and thank you kindly."
And in a while, when Mrs. Snummitt had duly curtsied herself out of
sight, Barnabas sighed, and turned once more to stare away, over
broken roof and crumbling chimney, towards the glory of the sunset.
But now, because he remembered poor little Miss Pell who had died
because she was so friendless and hungry, and Mr. Bimby who was
"always hungry" and played the flute, he stifled his fierce yearning
for dewy wood and copse and the sweet, pure breath of the country,
and thought no more of his father's inn that was so very far from
the sordid grime and suffering of Giles's Rents, down by the River;
and setting the kettle on the fire he sank into a chair and
stretching out his long legs, fell into a profound meditation.
From this he was roused by the opening of the door, and, glancing up,
beheld John Peterby. A very different person he looked from the neat,
well-groomed Peterby of a week ago, what with the rough, ill-fitting
clothes he wore and the fur cap pulled low over his brows; the
gentleman's gentleman had vanished quite, and in his stead was a
nondescript character such as might have been met with anywhere
along the River, or lounging in shadowy corners. He carried a bundle
beneath one arm, and cast a swift look round the room before turning
to see the door behind him.
"Ah," said Barnabas nodding, "I'm glad you're back, John, and with
plenty of provisions I hope, for I'm amazingly hungry, and besides,
I've asked a gentleman to sup with us."
Peterby put down the bundle and, crossing to the hearth, took the
kettle, which was boiling furiously, and set it upon the hob, then
laying aside the fur cap spoke: "A gentleman, sir?"
"A neighbor, John."
"Sir," said he, as he began to prepare the tea in that swift, silent
manner peculiar to him in all things, "when do you propose we shall
leave this place?"
"Why, to tell you the truth, John, I had almost determined to start
for the country this very night, but, on second thoughts, I've
decided to stay on a while. After all, we have only been here a week
as yet."
"Yes, sir, it is just a week since--Jasper Gaunt was murdered," said
Peterby gently as he stooped to unpack his bundle. Now when he said
this, Barnabas turned to look at him again, and thus he noticed that
Peterby's brow was anxious and careworn.