But the boy declined the invitation: Quilp was as strong as a lion.
“Never mind,” said the boy, nodding his head and rubbing it at the same time; “I will never strike anybody again because they say you’re a uglier dwarf than can be seen anywhere for a penny, that’s all.”
“Do you mean to say, I’m not, you dog?” returned Quilp.
“No!” retorted the boy.
“Then what do you fight on my wharf for, you villain?” said Quilp.
“Because he said so,” replied the boy, pointing to Kit, “not because you aren’t.”
“Then why did he say,” bawled Kit, “that Miss Nelly was ugly, and that she and my master were his servants? Why did he say that?”
“He said what he did because he’s a fool, and you said what you did because you’re very wise and clever, Kit,” said Quilp with great suavity in his manner, but still more of quiet malice about his eyes and mouth. “Here’s sixpence for you, Kit. Always speak the truth. At all times, Kit, speak the truth. Lock the house, you dog, and bring me the key.”
The other boy, to whom this order was addressed, did as he was told. Then Mr. Quilp departed, with the child and Kit in a boat.
The sound of Quilp’s footsteps roused Mrs. Quilp at home. Her husband entered, accompanied by the child; Kit was downstairs.
“Here’s Nelly Trent, dear Mrs. Quilp,” said her husband. “A glass of wine, my dear, and a biscuit, for she has had a long walk. She’ll sit with you, my soul, while I write a letter.”
Mrs. Quilp followed him into the next room.
“Mind what I say to you,” whispered Quilp. “Get out of her anything about her grandfather, or what they do, or how they live, or what he tells her. You women talk more freely to one another than you do to us. Do you hear?”
“Yes, Quilp.”
“Go, then. What’s the matter now?”
“Dear Quilp.” faltered his wife, “I love this child and I don’t want to deceive her…”
The dwarf muttered a terrible oath.
“Do you hear me?” whispered Quilp, nipping and pinching her arm; “let me know her secrets; I know you can. I’m listening, recollect. If you’re not sharp enough I’ll creak the door. Go!”
Mrs. Quilp departed according to order[25]. Her amiable husband, ensconcing himself behind the partly-opened door, and applying his ear close to it, began to listen with a face of great craftiness and attention.
Poor Mrs. Quilp began.
“How very often you have visited lately Mr. Quilp, my dear.”
“I have said so to grandfather, a hundred times,” returned Nell innocently.
“And what has he said to that?”
“Only sighed, and dropped his head. How that door creaks!”
“It often does,” returned Mrs. Quilp with an uneasy glance towards it. “But your grandfather was different before?”
“Oh yes!” said the child eagerly, “so different! We were once so happy and he so cheerful and contented! You cannot think what a sad change has fallen on us, since.”
“I am very, very sorry, to hear you speak like this, my dear! “ said Mrs. Quilp. And she spoke the truth.
“Thank you,” returned the child, kissing her cheek, “you are always kind to me, and it is a pleasure to talk to you. I can speak to no one else about him, but poor Kit. You cannot think how it grieves me sometimes to see him alter so.”
“He’ll alter again, Nelly,” said Mrs. Quilp, “and be what he was before.”
“I thought,” said the child; “I saw that door moving!”
“It’s the wind,” said Mrs. Quilp faintly. “Nelly, Nelly! I can’t bear to see you so sorrowful. Pray don’t cry.”
