"In my service!--my service!" interrupted Tag-rag, opening his eyes to their utmost. "I sha'n't know how to behave in my own premises! Have a man with ten thousand a-year behind my counter, sir? I might as well have the Lord Mayor! Sir, it can't--it can't be. Now, if Mr. t.i.tmouse chose to become a _partner_ in the house--ay, there might be something in that--he needn't have any trouble--be only a sleeping partner."

Tag-rag warmed with the thought. "Really, sir, that wouldn't be so much amiss--would it?" Gammon a.s.sured him that it was out of the question; and gave him some of the reasons for the proposal which he (Mr. Gammon) had been making. While Gammon fancied that Tag-rag was paying profound attention to what he was saying, Tag-rag's thoughts had shot far ahead.

He had an only child--a daughter, about twenty years old--Miss Tabitha Tag-rag; and the delightful possibility of her by-and-by becoming MRS.

t.i.tMOUSE, put her aspiring parent into a perspiration. Into the proposal just made by Mr. Gammon, Tag-rag fell with great eagerness, which he attempted to conceal--for what innumerable opportunities would it not afford him for bringing about the desire of his heart--for throwing the lovely young couple into each other's way,--endearing them to each other! Oh, delightful! It really looked almost as if it had been determined by the powers above that the thing should come to pa.s.s! If Mr. t.i.tmouse did not dine with him, Mrs. and Miss Tag-rag, at Satin Lodge, Clapham, on the very next Sunday, it should, Tag-rag resolved, be owing to no fault of _his_.--

Mr. Gammon having arranged everything exactly as he had desired, and having again enjoined Mr. Tag-rag to absolute secrecy, took his departure. Mr. Tag-rag, in his excitement, thrust out his hand, and grasped that of Gammon, which was extended towards him somewhat coldly and reluctantly. Tag-rag attended him with extreme obsequiousness to the door; and on his departure, walked back rapidly to his own room, and sat down for nearly half an hour in a sort of turbid but delicious revery.

Abruptly rising, at length, he clapped his hat on his head, and saying, as he pa.s.sed along the shop, that he should soon be back, hurried out to call upon his future son-in-law, full of affectionate anxiety concerning his health--and vowing within himself, that henceforth it should be the study of his life to make his daughter and t.i.tmouse happy!

There could be no doubt of the reality of the event just communicated to him by Mr. Gammon; for he was one of a well-known firm of solicitors; he had had an interview on "important business" with t.i.tmouse a fortnight before, and that _could_ have been nothing but the prodigious event just communicated to himself. Such things had happened to others--why not to t.i.ttlebat t.i.tmouse? In short, Tag-rag had no doubt on the matter; and his heart really yearned towards t.i.tmouse.

Finding that gentleman not at home, Mr. Tag-rag left a most particularly civil message, half a dozen times repeated, with Mrs. Squallop (to whom also he was specially civil,) to the effect that he, Mr. Tag-rag, would be only too happy to see Mr. t.i.tmouse at No. 375, Oxford Street, whenever it might suit his convenience; that Mr. Tag-rag had something very particular to say to him about the unpleasant and _unaccountable_[!] occurrence of yesterday; that Mr. Tag-rag was most deeply concerned to hear of Mr. t.i.tmouse's indisposition, and anxious to learn from himself that he had recovered, &c. &c. &c.;--all which, together with one or two other little matters, which Mrs. Squallop could not help putting together, satisfied that shrewd lady that "something was in the wind about Mr. t.i.tmouse;" and made her reflect rather anxiously on one or two violent scenes she had had with him, and which _she_ was now ready entirely to forget and forgive. Having thus done all that at present was in his power to forward the affair, the anxious and excited Tag-rag returned to his shop; on entering which, one Lutestring, his princ.i.p.al young man, eagerly apprised him of a claim which he had, as he imagined, only the moment before, established to the thanks of Mr. Tag-rag, by having "bundled off, neck and crop, that hodious t.i.tmouse," who, about five minutes before, had, it seemed, had the "impudence" to present himself at the shop-door, and walk in as if nothing had happened!! [t.i.tmouse had so presented himself in consequence of a call from Mr. Gammon, immediately after his interview with Tag-rag.]

"You--ordered--Mr. t.i.tmouse--off!!" exclaimed Tag-rag, starting back aghast, and almost petrifying his voluble and officious a.s.sistant.

"Of course, sir," at length exclaimed that person, meekly--"after what happened yester"----

"Who authorized you, Mr. Lutestring?" inquired Tag-rag, striving to choke down the rage rising within him.

"Why, sir, I _really_ supposed that"----

"You supposed!! You're a meddling, impertinent, disgusting"---- Suddenly his face was overspread with smiles, as three or four elegantly dressed customers entered, whom he received with profuse obeisances. But when their backs were turned, he directed a lightning look towards Lutestring, and retreated once more to his room, to meditate on the agitating events of the last hour. The extraordinary alteration in Mr.

Tag-rag's behavior was attributed by his shopmen to his having been frightened out of his wits by the threats of t.i.tmouse's lawyer--for such it was clear the stranger was; and more than one of them stored it up in their minds as a useful precedent against some future occasion.

Twice afterwards during the day did Tag-rag call at Mr. t.i.tmouse's lodgings--but in vain; and on returning the third time he felt not a little disquieted. He determined, however, to call the first thing on the ensuing morning; if he should then fail of seeing Mr. t.i.tmouse, he was resolved to go to Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap--and besides, address a very affectionate letter to Mr. t.i.tmouse. How totally changed had become all his feelings towards that gentleman within the last few hours. The more that Tag-rag reflected on t.i.tmouse's conduct, the more he saw in it to approve of. How steady and regular had he been in his habits! how civil and obliging! how patient of rebuke! how pleasing in his manners to the customers! Surely, surely, thought Tag-rag, t.i.tmouse can't have been four long years in my employ without getting a--sort of a--feeling--of attachment to me--he'd have left long ago if he hadn't!

It was true there _had_ now and then been tiffs between them; but who could agree always? Even Mrs. Tag-rag and he, when they were courting, often fell out with one another!--Tag-rag was now ready to forget and forgive all--he had never meant any harm to t.i.tmouse. He believed that poor t.i.ttlebat was an orphan, unhappy soul! alone in the wide world--_now_ he would become the prey of designing strangers and adventurers. Tag-rag did not like the appearance of Gammon. No doubt that person would try and ingratiate himself as much as possible with t.i.tmouse! Then t.i.tmouse was remarkably good-looking. "I wonder what Tabby will think of him when she sees him!" How anxious t.i.ttlebat must be to see her--_his_ daughter! How could Tag-rag make t.i.ttlebat's stay at his premises (for he could not bring himself to believe that on the morrow he could not set all right, and disavow the abominable conduct of Lutestring) agreeable and delightful? He would discharge the first of his young men that did not show t.i.tmouse proper respect.--What low lodgings poor t.i.ttlebat lived in!--Why could he not take up his quarters at Satin Lodge? They always had a nice spare bedroom. Ah! _that_ would be a stroke! How Tabby could endear herself to him! What a number of things Mrs. Tag-rag could do to make him comfortable!

About seven o'clock Tag-rag quitted his premises in Oxford Street, for his country house; and, occupied with these and similar delightful and anxious thoughts and speculations, hurried along Oxford Street on his way to the Clapham stage, without thinking of his umbrella, though it rained fast. When he had taken his place on the coach-box, beside old Crack, (as he had done almost every night for years,) he was so unusually silent that Crack naturally thought his best pa.s.senger was going to become bankrupt, or compound with his creditors, or do something in that line, shortly. Mr. Tag-rag could hardly keep his temper at the slow pace old Crack was driving at--just when Mr. Tag-rag would have wished to gallop the whole way. Never had he descended with so much briskness, as when the coach at length drew up before the little green gate, which opened on the tidy little gravel walk, which led up to the little green wooden porch, which sheltered the little door which admitted you into little Satin Lodge. As Tag-rag stood for a moment wiping his wet shoes upon the mat, he could not help observing, for the first time, by the inward light of ten thousand a-year, how _uncommon_ narrow the pa.s.sage was; and thinking that Satin Lodge would never _do_, when he should be the father-in-law of a man worth ten thousand a-year--but he could easily let that house then, and take a large one.

As he hung his hat upon the peg, the perilous insolence of Lutestring occurred to him; and he deposited such a prodigious, but half-suppressed execration upon that gentleman's name, as must have sunk a far more buoyant sinner many fathoms deeper than usual into a certain hot and deep place that shall be nameless.

Mrs. and Miss Tag-rag were sitting in the front parlor, intending to take tea as soon as Mr. Tag-rag should have arrived. It was not a large room, but sweetly furnished, according to the taste of the owners. There was only one window, and it had a flaunting white summer curtain. The walls were ornamented with three pictures, in ponderous gilt frames, being portraits of Mr., Mrs., and Miss Tag-rag; and I do not feel disposed to say more concerning these pictures, than that in each of them the _dress_ was done with elaborate exactness--the _faces_ seeming to have been painted in, for the purpose of setting off and completing the picture of the dress. The skinny little Miss Tag-rag sat at the worn-out, jingling pianoforte, causing it to utter--oh, horrid and doleful sound!--"_The Battle of Prague_." Mrs. Tag-rag, a fat, showily dressed woman of about fifty, her cap having a prodigious number of artificial flowers in it, sat reading a profitable volume, ent.i.tled "_Groans from the Bottomless Pit to Awaken Sleeping Sinners_," by (as he was pleased to dignify himself) _the Rev._ DISMAL HORROR--a very rousing young dissenting preacher lately come into that neighborhood, and who had almost frightened into fits half the women and children, and one or two old men, of his congregation; giving out, among several similarly cheering intimations, that they must all necessarily be d.a.m.ned unless they immediately set about making themselves as miserable as possible in this world. Only the Sunday before, he had pointed out, with awful force and distinctness, how cards and novels were the devil's traps to catch souls; and b.a.l.l.s and theatres short and easy cuts to----!

He had proved to his trembling female hearers, in effect, that there was only one way to heaven, _i. e._ through his chapel; that the only safe mode of spending their time on earth was reading such blessed works as that which he had just published, and going daily to prayer-meetings.

When, however, a Sunday or two before, he had the a.s.surance to preach a funeral sermon, to "improve the death"--such being his impressive phrase--of a Miss Snooks, (who had kept a circulating library in the neighborhood, but had not been a member of his congregation;) and who, having been to the theatre on the Thursday night, was taken ill of a bowel attack on the Friday, and was a "_lifeless corpse_ when the next Sabbath dawned"--you might have heard a beetle sneeze within any of the walls, all over the crowded chapel. Two-thirds of the women present, struck with the awful judgment upon the deceased Miss Snooks, inwardly made solemn vows never again to enter the accursed walls of a theatre or concert-room;[11] many determined no longer to subscribe to the circulating library, ruining their precious souls with light and amusing reading; and almost all resolved forthwith to become active members of a sort of religious tract society, which "dear Mr. Horror" had just established in the neighborhood, for the purpose of giving the sick and starving poor _spiritual_ food, in the shape of tracts, (chiefly written by himself,) which might "wean their affections away from this vain world," and "fix them on better things," rejoicing, in the meanwhile, in the bitter pangs of dest.i.tution--and able to bear them! All this sort of thing Mr. Horror possibly imagined to be calculated to advance the cause of real religion! In short, he had created a sort of spiritual fever about the place which was then just at its height in worthy Mrs.

Tag-rag.

"Well, Dolly, how are you to-night?" inquired Tag-rag, with unusual briskness, on entering the room.

"Tolerable, thank you, Tag," replied Mrs. Tag-rag, mournfully, with a sigh, closing the cheerful volume she had been perusing--it having been recommended the preceding Sunday from the pulpit by its pious and gifted author, to be read and prayed over every day by every member of his congregation!

"And how are _you_, Tabby?" said Tag-rag, addressing his daughter. "Come and kiss me, you little s.l.u.t--come!"

"No, I sha'n't, pa! Do let me go on with my practising," said Miss Tag-rag--and tw.a.n.g! tw.a.n.g! went those infernal keys.

"D' ye hear, Tab? Come and kiss me, you little minx"----

"Really, pa, how provoking--just as I am in the middle of the _Cries of the Wounded_! I sha'n't--that's flat."

The doting parent could not, however, be denied; so he stepped to the piano, put his arm around his dutiful daughter's neck, kissed her fondly, and then stood for a moment behind her, admiring her brilliant execution of The _Trumpet of Victory_. Having changed his coat, and put on an old pair of shoes, Mr. Tag-rag was comfortable for the evening.

"Tabby plays wonderful well, Dolly, don't she?" said Tag-rag, as the tea-things were being brought in, by way of beginning a conversation, while he drew his chair nearer to his wife.

"Ah! I'd a deal rather see her reading something serious--for life is short, Tag, and eternity's long."

"Botheration!--Stuff!--Tut!" exclaimed Tag-rag!

"You may find it out one day, my dear, when, alas! it's too late"--

"I'll tell you what, Dolly," said Tag-rag, angrily, "you're doing a great deal too much in this line of business--my house is getting like a Methodist meeting-house. I can't bear it--I can't! What the deuce is come to you all in these parts, lately?" Mr. Tag-rag, I should apprise the reader, had been induced, some three years before, to quit the Church of England and take up with Mr. Dismal Horror; but his zeal had by no means kept pace with that of his wife.

"Ah, Tag-rag," replied his wife, with a sigh, "I can only pray for you--I can do no more"----

"Oh!" exclaimed Tag-rag, with an air of desperate disgust, thrusting his hands into his pockets, and stretching his legs to their utmost extent under the table. "I'll tell you what, Mrs. T." he added after a while, "I like religion well enough--but too much of it no one can stand. Too much of one thing is good for nothing; you may choke a dog with pudding;--I sha'n't renew my sittings at Mr. Horror's."

"Oh, dear, dear pa, do! That's a love of a pa!" interposed Miss Tag-rag, twirling round on her music-stool. "All Clapham's running after him--he's quite the rage! There's the Dugginses, the Pips, the Jones, the Maggots,--and, really, Mr. Horror does preach such dreadful things, it's quite delightful to look round and see all the people with their eyes and mouths wide open--and ours is such a good pew for seeing--and Mr. Horror is such a bee--yeautiful preacher--isn't he, ma?"

"Yes, love, he is--but I wish I could see you profit by him, and preparing for death"----

"Why, ma, how _can_ you go on in that ridiculous way? You know I'm not twenty yet, however old you and pa may be!"

"Well, well! poor Tabby!" here Mrs. Tag-rag's voice faltered--"a day will come, when"----

"Play me the _Devil among the Tailors_, or _Copenhagen Waltz_, or something of that sort, Tabby," said her father, furiously, "or I shall be sick!--I can't bear it! Curse Mr. Hor"----

"Well!--Oh, my!!--I never!--Mr. Tag-rag!" exclaimed his astounded wife.

"Play away, Tab, or I'll go and sit in the kitchen! They're cheerful _there_! The next time I come across Mr. Horror, if I don't give him a bit of my mind"--here he paused, and slapped his hand with much energy upon the table. Mrs. Tag-rag wiped her eyes, sighed, and resumed her book. Miss Tag-rag began to make tea, her papa gradually forgetting his rage, as he fixed his dull gray eyes fondly on the pert skinny countenance of his daughter.

"By the way, Tag," exclaimed Mrs. Tag-rag, suddenly, but in the same mournful tone, addressing her husband, "you haven't of course forgot the flowers for my new bonnet?"

"Never once thought of it," replied Tag-rag, doggedly.

"You haven't! Good gracious! what am I to go to chapel in next Sunday?"

she exclaimed with sudden alarm, closing her book, "and our seat in the very front of the gallery!--bless me! I shall have a hundred eyes on me!"

"Now that you're coming down a bit, and dropped out of the clouds--or p'r'aps I should say--come up from beneath!--Dolly," said her husband, much relieved, "I'll tell you a bit of news that will, I fancy, rather"----

"Come! what is it, Tag?" she inquired with a sort of languid curiosity.

"What should you say of a chance of a certain somebody" (here he looked unutterable things at his daughter) "that shall be nameless, becoming mistress of ten thousand a-year?"

"Why"--Mrs. Tag-rag changed color--"has any one fallen in love with Tab?"

"What should you say, Mrs. T., of our Tab marrying a man with ten thousand a-year? There's for you! Isn't _that_ better than all your rel---- hem!"

"Oh, Tag, don't say that; but"--here she hastily turned down the leaf of _Groans from the Bottomless Pit_, and tossed that inestimable work upon the sofa--"do tell me, lovey! what _are_ you talking about?"

"What indeed, Dolly!--I'm going to have him here to dinner next Sunday."

Miss Tag-rag having been listening with breathless eagerness to this little colloquy between her prudent and amiable parents, unconscious of what she was about, poured almost all the contents of the tea-pot into the sugar-basin, instead of her papa's and mamma's tea-cups.