‘I am very much obliged to you for your good opinion, Sir,’ said Tom

Smart.

'‘Therefore,’ resumed the old gentleman, in a dictatorial tone, ‘you

shall have her, and he shall not.’

‘What is to prevent it?’ said Tom Smart eagerly.

‘This disclosure,’ replied the old gentleman; ‘he is already married.’

‘How can I prove it?’ said Tom, starting half out of bed. 'The old

gentleman untucked his arm from his side, and having pointed to one

of the oaken presses, immediately replaced it, in its old position.

'‘He little thinks,’ said the old gentleman, ‘that in the right- hand

pocket of a pair of trousers in that press, he has left a letter,

entreating him to return to his disconsolate wife, with six - mark me,

Tom - six babes, and all of them small ones.’

As the old gentleman solemnly uttered these words, his features grew

less and less distinct, and his figure more shadowy. A film came over

Tom Smart's eyes. The old man seemed gradually blending into the

chair, the damask waistcoat to resolve into a cushion, the red slippers

to shrink into little red cloth bags. The light faded gently away, and

Tom Smart fell back on his pillow, and dropped asleep.

'Morning aroused Tom from the lethargic slumber, into which he had

fallen on the disappearance of the old man. He sat up in bed, and for

some minutes vainly endeavoured to recall the events of the preceding

night. Suddenly they rushed upon him. He looked at the chair; it was

a fantastic and grim-looking piece of furniture, certainly, but it must

have been a remarkably ingenious and lively imagination, that could

have discovered any resemblance between it and an old man.

‘How are you, old boy?’ said Tom. He was bolder in the daylight -

most men are.

'The chair remained motionless, and spoke not a word.

‘Miserable morning,’ said Tom. No. The chair would not be drawn into

conversation.

‘Which press did you point to? - you can tell me that,’ said Tom. Devil

a word, gentlemen, the chair would say.

‘It's not much trouble to open it, anyhow,’ said Tom, getting out of

bed very deliberately. He walked up to one of the presses. The key was

in the lock; he turned it, and opened the door. There was a pair of

The Pickwick Papers