| 342 | 343 | 344 | 345 | 346 |
| 1 | 133 | 265 | 398 | 530 |
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them go; no one had met them on the road; the driver of no coach,
cart, or waggon, had seen any travellers answering their description;
nobody had fallen in with them, or heard of them. Convinced at last
that for the present all such attempts were hopeless, he appointed two
or three scouts, with promises of large rewards in case of their
forwarding him any intelligence, and returned to London by next day's
coach.
It was some gratification to Mr Quilp to find, as he took his place upon
the roof, that Kit's mother was alone inside; from which circumstance
he derived in the course of the journey much cheerfulness of spirit,
inasmuch as her solitary condition enabled him to terrify her with
many extraordinary annoyances; such as hanging over the side of the
coach at the risk of his life, and staring in with his great goggle eyes,
which seemed in hers the more horrible from his face being upside
down; dodging her in this way from one window to another; getting
nimbly down whenever they changed horses and thrusting his head in
at the window with a dismal squint: which ingenious tortures had
such an effect upon Mrs Nubbles, that she was quite unable for the
time to resist the belief that Mr Quilp did in his own person represent
and embody that Evil Power, who was so vigorously attacked at Little
Bethel, and who, by reason of her backslidings in respect of Astley's
and oysters, was now frolicsome and rampant.
Kit, having been apprised by letter of his mother's intended return,
was waiting for her at the coach-office; and great was his surprise
when he saw, leering over the coachman's shoulder like some familiar
demon, invisible to all eyes but his, the well-known face of Quilp.
'
How are you, Christopher?' croaked the dwarf from the coach-top. 'All
right, Christopher. Mother's inside.'
'Why, how did he come here, mother?' whispered Kit.
'I don't know how he came or why, my dear,' rejoined Mrs Nubbles,
dismounting with her son's assistance, 'but he has been a terrifying of
me out of my seven senses all this blessed day.'
'
'
He has?' cried Kit.
You wouldn't believe it, that you wouldn't,' replied his mother, 'but
don't say a word to him, for I really don't believe he's human. Hush!
Don't turn round as if I was talking of him, but he's a squinting at me
now in the full blaze of the coach-lamp, quite awful!'
In spite of his mother's injunction, Kit turned sharply round to look.
Mr Quilp was serenely gazing at the stars, quite absorbed in celestial
contemplation.
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