Great Expectations - Page 257/421

"I thank you ten thousand times."

"On the contrary," said he, "I thank you, for though we are strictly in

our private and personal capacity, still it may be mentioned that there

are Newgate cobwebs about, and it brushes them away."

After a little further conversation to the same effect, we returned into

the Castle where we found Miss Skiffins preparing tea. The responsible

duty of making the toast was delegated to the Aged, and that excellent

old gentleman was so intent upon it that he seemed to me in some danger

of melting his eyes. It was no nominal meal that we were going to make,

but a vigorous reality. The Aged prepared such a hay-stack of buttered

toast, that I could scarcely see him over it as it simmered on an iron

stand hooked on to the top-bar; while Miss Skiffins brewed such a jorum

of tea, that the pig in the back premises became strongly excited, and

repeatedly expressed his desire to participate in the entertainment.

The flag had been struck, and the gun had been fired, at the right

moment of time, and I felt as snugly cut off from the rest of Walworth

as if the moat were thirty feet wide by as many deep. Nothing disturbed

the tranquillity of the Castle, but the occasional tumbling open of

John and Miss Skiffins: which little doors were a prey to some spasmodic

infirmity that made me sympathetically uncomfortable until I got used

to it. I inferred from the methodical nature of Miss Skiffins's

arrangements that she made tea there every Sunday night; and I rather

suspected that a classic brooch she wore, representing the profile of an

undesirable female with a very straight nose and a very new moon, was a

piece of portable property that had been given her by Wemmick.

We ate the whole of the toast, and drank tea in proportion, and it was

delightful to see how warm and greasy we all got after it. The Aged

especially, might have passed for some clean old chief of a savage

tribe, just oiled. After a short pause of repose, Miss Skiffins--in the

absence of the little servant who, it seemed, retired to the bosom of

her family on Sunday afternoons--washed up the tea-things, in a trifling

lady-like amateur manner that compromised none of us. Then, she put on

her gloves again, and we drew round the fire, and Wemmick said, "Now,

Aged Parent, tip us the paper."

Wemmick explained to me while the Aged got his spectacles out, that this

was according to custom, and that it gave the old gentleman infinite

satisfaction to read the news aloud. "I won't offer an apology," said

Wemmick, "for he isn't capable of many pleasures--are you, Aged P.?"