Chapter XIV

As it was very easy for Kit to persuade himself that the old house was

in his way, his way being anywhere, he tried to look upon his passing

it once more as a matter of imperative and disagreeable necessity,

quite apart from any desire of his own, to which he could not choose

but yield. It is not uncommon for people who are much better fed and

taught than Christopher Nubbles had ever been, to make duties of

their inclinations in matters of more doubtful propriety, and to take

great credit for the self-denial with which they gratify themselves.

There was no need of any caution this time, and no fear of being

detained by having to play out a return match with Daniel Quilp's boy.

The place was entirely deserted, and looked as dusty and dingy as if it

had been so for months. A rusty padlock was fastened on the door,

ends of discoloured blinds and curtains flapped drearily against the

half-opened upper windows, and the crooked holes cut in the closed

shutters below, were black with the darkness of the inside. Some of

the glass in the window he had so often watched, had been broken in

the rough hurry of the morning, and that room looked more deserted

and dull than any. A group of idle urchins had taken possession of the

door-steps; some were plying the knocker and listening with delighted

dread to the hollow sounds it spread through the dismantled house;

others were clustered about the keyhole, watching half in jest and half

in earnest for 'the ghost,' which an hour's gloom, added to the mystery

that hung about the late inhabitants, had already raised. Standing all

alone in the midst of the business and bustle of the street, the house

looked a picture of cold desolation; and Kit, who remembered the

cheerful fire that used to burn there on a winter's night and the no

less cheerful laugh that made the small room ring, turned quite

mournfully away.

It must be especially observed in justice to poor Kit that he was by no

means of a sentimental turn, and perhaps had never heard that

adjective in all his life. He was only a soft-hearted grateful fellow, and

had nothing genteel or polite about him; consequently, instead of

going home again, in his grief, to kick the children and abuse his

mother (for, when your finely strung people are out of sorts, they must

have everybody else unhappy likewise), he turned his thoughts to the

vulgar expedient of making them more comfortable if he could.

Bless us, what a number of gentlemen on horseback there were riding

up and down, and how few of them wanted their horses held! A good

city speculator or a parliamentary commissioner could have told to a

fraction, from the crowds that were cantering about, what sum of

money was realised in London, in the course of a year, by holding

horses alone. And undoubtedly it would have been a very large one, if

only a twentieth part of the gentlemen without grooms had had

The Old Curiosity Shop