The fact was, that when the five hundred pounds had come into my pocket,
a thought had come into my head which had been often there before;
and it appeared to me that Wemmick was a good person to advise with
concerning such thought.
He had already locked up his safe, and made preparations for going home.
He had left his desk, brought out his two greasy office candlesticks and
stood them in line with the snuffers on a slab near the door, ready to
be extinguished; he had raked his fire low, put his hat and great-coat
ready, and was beating himself all over the chest with his safe-key, as
an athletic exercise after business.
"Mr. Wemmick," said I, "I want to ask your opinion. I am very desirous
to serve a friend."
Wemmick tightened his post-office and shook his head, as if his opinion
were dead against any fatal weakness of that sort.
"This friend," I pursued, "is trying to get on in commercial life,
but has no money, and finds it difficult and disheartening to make a
beginning. Now I want somehow to help him to a beginning."
"With money down?" said Wemmick, in a tone drier than any sawdust.
"With some money down," I replied, for an uneasy remembrance shot across
me of that symmetrical bundle of papers at home--"with some money down,
and perhaps some anticipation of my expectations."
"Mr. Pip," said Wemmick, "I should like just to run over with you on my
fingers, if you please, the names of the various bridges up as high
as Chelsea Reach. Let's see; there's London, one; Southwark, two;
Blackfriars, three; Waterloo, four; Westminster, five; Vauxhall, six."
He had checked off each bridge in its turn, with the handle of his
safe-key on the palm of his hand. "There's as many as six, you see, to
choose from."
"I don't understand you," said I.
"Choose your bridge, Mr. Pip," returned Wemmick, "and take a walk upon
your bridge, and pitch your money into the Thames over the centre arch
of your bridge, and you know the end of it. Serve a friend with it, and
you may know the end of it too,--but it's a less pleasant and profitable
end."
I could have posted a newspaper in his mouth, he made it so wide after
saying this.
"This is very discouraging," said I.
"Meant to be so," said Wemmick.
"Then is it your opinion," I inquired, with some little indignation,
"that a man should never--"