For a reason that I had, I felt as if my eyes would start out of my
head. I acknowledged his attention incoherently, and began to think this
was a dream.
"Dear me!" said Mr. Pocket, Junior. "This door sticks so!"
As he was fast making jam of his fruit by wrestling with the door while
the paper-bags were under his arms, I begged him to allow me to hold
them. He relinquished them with an agreeable smile, and combated with
the door as if it were a wild beast. It yielded so suddenly at last,
that he staggered back upon me, and I staggered back upon the opposite
door, and we both laughed. But still I felt as if my eyes must start out
of my head, and as if this must be a dream.
"Pray come in," said Mr. Pocket, Junior. "Allow me to lead the way. I am
rather bare here, but I hope you'll be able to make out tolerably well
till Monday. My father thought you would get on more agreeably through
to-morrow with me than with him, and might like to take a walk about
London. I am sure I shall be very happy to show London to you. As to our
table, you won't find that bad, I hope, for it will be supplied from our
coffee-house here, and (it is only right I should add) at your expense,
such being Mr. Jaggers's directions. As to our lodging, it's not by
any means splendid, because I have my own bread to earn, and my father
hasn't anything to give me, and I shouldn't be willing to take it, if he
had. This is our sitting-room,--just such chairs and tables and carpet
and so forth, you see, as they could spare from home. You mustn't give
me credit for the tablecloth and spoons and castors, because they come
for you from the coffee-house. This is my little bedroom; rather musty,
but Barnard's is musty. This is your bedroom; the furniture's hired for
the occasion, but I trust it will answer the purpose; if you should want
anything, I'll go and fetch it. The chambers are retired, and we shall
be alone together, but we shan't fight, I dare say. But dear me, I beg
your pardon, you're holding the fruit all this time. Pray let me take
these bags from you. I am quite ashamed."
As I stood opposite to Mr. Pocket, Junior, delivering him the bags, One,
Two, I saw the starting appearance come into his own eyes that I knew to
be in mine, and he said, falling back,-"Lord bless me, you're the prowling boy!"