Enjoining Tom Scott to await his return, and not to stand upon his

head, or throw a summerset, or so much as walk upon his hands

meanwhile, on pain of lingering torments, the dwarf threw himself into

a boat, and crossing to the other side of the river, and then speeding

away on foot, reached Mr Swiveller's usual house of entertainment in

Bevis Marks, just as that gentleman sat down alone to dinner in its

dusky parlour.

'Dick'- said the dwarf, thrusting his head in at the door, 'my pet, my

pupil, the apple of my eye, hey, hey!'

'Oh you're there, are you?' returned Mr Swiveller; 'how are you?'

'How's Dick?' retorted Quilp. 'How's the cream of clerkship, eh?'

'Why, rather sour, sir,' replied Mr Swiveller. 'Beginning to border upon

cheesiness, in fact.'

What's the matter?' said the dwarf, advancing. 'Has Sally proved

unkind. ‘Of all the girls that are so smart, there's none like - ’ eh,

Dick!'

Certainly not,' replied Mr Swiveller, eating his dinner with great

gravity, 'none like her. She's the sphynx of private life, is Sally B.'

You're out of spirits,' said Quilp, drawing up a chair. 'What's the

matter?'

The law don't agree with me,' returned Dick. 'It isn't moist enough,

and there's too much confinement. I have been thinking of running

away.'

'Bah!' said the dwarf. 'Where would you run to, Dick?'

I don't know' returned Mr Swiveller. 'Towards Highgate, I suppose.

Perhaps the bells might strike up ‘Turn again Swiveller, Lord Mayor of

London.’ Whittington's name was Dick. I wish cats were scarcer.’

Quilp looked at his companion with his eyes screwed up into a

comical expression of curiosity, and patiently awaited his further

explanation; upon which, however, Mr Swiveller appeared in no hurry

to enter, as he ate a very long dinner in profound silence, finally

pushed away his plate, threw himself back into his chair, folded his

arms, and stared ruefully at the fire, in which some ends of cigars

were smoking on their own account, and sending up a fragrant odour.

The Old Curiosity Shop