‘Frightful, my dear ma'am; but compose yourself,’ said Tom Smart.

‘Oh, I can't compose myself,’ shrieked the widow. ‘I shall never find

anyone else I can love so much!’

'‘Oh, yes you will, my dear soul,’ said Tom Smart, letting fall a shower

of the largest-sized tears, in pity for the widow's misfortunes. Tom

Smart, in the energy of his compassion, had put his arm round the

widow's waist; and the widow, in a passion of grief, had clasped Tom's

hand. She looked up in Tom's face, and smiled through her tears. Tom

looked down in hers, and smiled through his.

'I never could find out, gentlemen, whether Tom did or did not kiss the

widow at that particular moment. He used to tell my uncle he didn't,

but I have my doubts about it. Between ourselves, gentlemen, I rather

think he did.

At all events, Tom kicked the very tall man out at the front door half

an hour later, and married the widow a month after. And he used to

drive about the country, with the clay-coloured gig with the red

wheels, and the vixenish mare with the fast pace, till he gave up

business many years afterwards, and went to France with his wife;

and then the old house was pulled down.'

Will you allow me to ask you,' said the inquisitive old gentleman,

what became of the chair?'

'Why,' replied the one-eyed bagman, 'it was observed to creak very

much on the day of the wedding; but Tom Smart couldn't say for

certain whether it was with pleasure or bodily infirmity. He rather

thought it was the latter, though, for it never spoke afterwards.'

Everybody believed the story, didn't they?' said the dirty- faced man,

refilling his pipe.

Except Tom's enemies,' replied the bagman. 'Some of 'em said Tom

invented it altogether; and others said he was drunk and fancied it,

and got hold of the wrong trousers by mistake before he went to bed.

But nobody ever minded what THEY said.'

Tom Smart said it was all true?'

Every word.'

And your uncle?'

Every letter.'

The Pickwick Papers