Other lots were marked off on other parts of

the structure, and the ivy had been torn down to make room for the

inscriptions, and much of it trailed low in the dust and was

withered already. Stepping in for a moment at the open gate and

looking around me with the uncomfortable air of a stranger who had

no business there, I saw the auctioneer's clerk walking on the

casks and telling them off for the information of a catalogue

compiler, pen in hand, who made a temporary desk of the wheeled

chair I had so often pushed along to the tune of Old Clem.

When I got back to my breakfast in the Boar's coffee-room, I found

Mr. Pumblechook conversing with the landlord. Mr. Pumblechook (not

improved in appearance by his late nocturnal adventure) was waiting

for me, and addressed me in the following terms.

"Young man, I am sorry to see you brought low. But what else could

be expected! What else could be expected!"

As he extended his hand with a magnificently forgiving air, and as

I was broken by illness and unfit to quarrel, I took it.

"William," said Mr. Pumblechook to the waiter, "put a muffin on

table. And has it come to this! Has it come to this!"

I frowningly sat down to my breakfast. Mr. Pumblechook stood over me

and poured out my tea - before I could touch the teapot - with the

air of a benefactor who was resolved to be true to the last.

"William," said Mr. Pumblechook, mournfully, "put the salt on. In

happier times," addressing me, "I think you took sugar. And did you

take milk? You did. Sugar and milk. William, bring a watercress."

"Thank you," said I, shortly, "but I don't eat watercresses."

"You don't eat 'em," returned Mr. Pumblechook, sighing and nodding

his head several times, as if he might have expected that, and as

if abstinence from watercresses were consistent with my downfall.

"True. The simple fruits of the earth. No. You needn't bring any,

William."

I went on with my breakfast, and Mr. Pumblechook continued to stand

over me, staring fishily and breathing noisily, as he always did.

"Little more than skin and bone!" mused Mr. Pumblechook, aloud. "And

yet when he went from here (I may say with my blessing), and I

spread afore him my humble store, like the Bee, he was as plump as

a Peach!"

This reminded me of the wonderful difference between the servile

manner in which he had offered his hand in my new prosperity,

saying, "May I?" and the ostentatious clemency with which he had

just now exhibited the same fat five fingers.

"Hah!" he went on, handing me the bread-and-butter. "And air you

a-going to Joseph?"

"In heaven's name," said I, firing in spite of myself, "what does

it matter to you where I am going? Leave that teapot alone."

It was the worst course I could have taken, because it gave

Pumblechook the opportunity he wanted.

"Yes, young man," said he, releasing the handle of the article in

question, retiring a step or two from my table, and speaking for

the behoof of the landlord and waiter at the door, "I will leave

that teapot alone. You are right, young man. For once, you are

right. I forgit myself when I take such an interest in your

breakfast, as to wish your frame, exhausted by the debilitating

effects of prodigygality, to be stimilated by the 'olesome

nourishment of your forefathers. And yet," said Pumblechook,

turning to the landlord and waiter, and pointing me out at arm's

length, "this is him as I ever sported with in his days of happy

infancy! Tell me not it cannot be; I tell you this is him!"

A low murmur from the two replied. The waiter appeared to be

particularly affected.

"This is him," said Pumblechook, "as I have rode in my shaycart.

This is him as I have seen brought up by hand. This is him untoe

the sister of which I was uncle by marriage, as her name was

Georgiana M'ria from her own mother, let him deny it if he can!"

The waiter seemed convinced that I could not deny it, and that it

gave the case a black look.