bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第154节
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“O！ I； Tony！” says Mr Guppy； soothing him。 “I have never lived
there； and couldn’t get a lodging there now； whereas you have got
one。”
“You are welcome to it；” rejoins his friend； “and—ugh！—you
may make yourself at home in it。”
“Then you really and truly at this point；” says Mr Guppy； “give
up the whole thing； if I understand you； Tony？”
“You never；” returns Tony； with a most convincing
steadfastness； “said a truer word in all your life。 I do！”
While they are so conversing； a hackney…coach drives into the
square； on the box of which vehicle a very tall hat makes itself
manifest to the public。 Inside the coach； and consequently not so
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manifest to the multitude； though sufficiently so to the two friends；
for the coach stops almost at their feet； are the venerable Mr
Smallweed and Mrs Smallweed； accompanied by their
granddaughter Judy。 An air of haste and excitement pervades the
party； and as the tall hat （surmounting Mr Smallweed the
younger） alights； Mr Smallweed the elder pokes his head out of
window； and bawls to Mr Guppy； “How de do； sir！ How de do！”
“What do Chick and his family want here at this time of the
morning； I wonder！” says Mr Guppy； nodding to his familiar。
“My dear sir；” cries Grandfather Smallweed； “would you do me
a favour？ Would you and your friend be so very obleeging as to
carry me into the public…house in the court； while Bart and his
sister bring their grandmother along？ Would you do an old man
that good turn； sir？”
Mr Guppy looks at his friend； repeating inquiringly； “the
public…house in the court？” And they prepare to bear the
venerable burden to the Sol’s Arms。
“There’s your fare！” says the Patriarch to the coachman with a
fierce grin； and shaking his incapable fist at him。 “Ask me for a
penny more； and I’ll have my lawful revenge upon you。 My dear
young men； be easy with me； if you please。 Allow me to catch you
round the neck。 I won’t squeeze you tighter than I can help。 O
Lord！ O dear me！ O my bones！”
It is well that the Sol is not far off； for Mr Weevle presents an
apoplectic appearance before half the distance is accomplished。
With no worse aggravation of his symptoms； however； than the
utterance of divers croaking sounds； expressive of obstructive
respiration； he fulfils his share of the porterage； and the
benevolent old gentleman is deposited by his own desire in the
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parlour of the Sol’s Arms。
“O Lord！” gasps Mr Smallweed； looking about him； breathless；
from an armchair。 “O dear me！ O my bones and back！ O my aches
and pains！ Sit down； you dancing； prancing； shambling；
scrambling poll parrot！ Sit down！”
This little apostrophe to Mrs Smallweed is occasioned by a
propensity on the part of that unlucky old lady； whenever she
finds herself on her feet； to amble about； and “set” to inanimate
objects； accompanying herself with a chattering noise； as in a
witch dance。 A nervous affection has probably as much to do with
these demonstrations； as any imbecile intention in the poor old
woman； but on the present occasion they are so particularly lively
in connection with the Windsor armchair； fellow to that in which
Mr Smallweed is seated； that she only quite desists when her
grandchildren have held her down in it： her lord in the meanwhile
bestowing upon her； with great volubility； the endearing epithet of
“a pigheaded Jackdaw；” repeated a surprising number of times。
“My dear sir；” Grandfather Smallweed then proceeds；
addressing Mr Guppy； “there has been a calamity here。 Have you
heard of it； either of you？”
“Heard of it； sir！ Why； we discovered it。”
“You discovered it。 You two discovered it！ Bart； they discovered
it！”
The two discoverers stare at the Smallweeds； who return the
compliment。
“My dear friends；” whines Grandfather Smallweed； putting out
both his hands； “I owe you a thousand thanks for discharging the
melancholy office of discovering the ashes of Mrs Smallweed’s
brother。”
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“Eh？” says Mr Guppy。
“Mrs Smallweed’s brother； my dear friend—her only relation。
We were not on terms； which is to be deplored now； but he never
would be on terms。 He was not fond of us。 He was eccentric—he
was very eccentric。 Unless he has left a will （which is not at all
likely） I shall take out letters of administration。 I have come down
to look after the property； it must be sealed up； it must be
protected。 I have come down；” repeats Grandfather Smallweed；
hooking the air towards him with all his ten fingers at once； “to
look after the property。”
“I think； Small；” says the disconsolate Mr Guppy； “you might
have mentioned that the old man was your uncle。”
“You two were so close about him that I thought you would like
me to be the same；” returns that old bird； with a secretly glistening
eye。 “Besides； I wasn’t proud of him。”
“Besides which； it was nothing to you； you know； whether he
was or not；” says Judy。 Also with a secretly glistening eye。
“He never saw me in his life； to know me；” observed Small； “I
don’t know why I should introduce him； I am sure！”
“No； he never communicated with us—which is to be
deplored；” the old gentleman strikes in； “but I have come to look
after the property—to look over the papers； and to look after the
property。 We shall make good our title。 It is in the hands of my
solicitor。 Mr Tulkinghorn； of Lincoln’s Inn Fields； over the way
there； is so good as to act as my solicitor； and grass don’t grow
under his feet； I can tell ye。 Krook was Mrs Smallweed’s only
brother； she had no relation but Krook； and Krook had no relation
but Mrs Smallweed。 I am speaking of your brother； you brimstone
black…beetle； that was seventy…six years of age。”
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Mrs Smallweed instantly begins to shake her head； and pipe up；
“Seventy…six pound seven and sevenpence！ Seventy…six thousand
bags of money！ Seventy…six hundred thousand million of parcels of
banknotes！”
“Will somebody give me a quart pot？” exclaims her exasperated
husband； looking helplessly about him； and finding no missile
within his reach。 “Will somebody obleege me with a spittoon？ Will
somebody hand me anything hard and bruising to pelt at her？ You
hag； you cat； you dog； you brimstone barker！” Here Mr
Smallweed； wrought up to the highest pitch by his own eloquence；
actually throws Judy at her grandmother in default of anything
else； by butting that young virgin at the old lady with such force as
he can muster； and then dropping into his chair in a heap。
“Shake me up； somebody； if you’ll be so good；” says the voice
from within the faintly struggling bundle into which he has
collapsed。 “I have come to look after the property。 Shake me up；
and call in the police on duty at the next house； to be explained to
about the property。 My solicitor will be here presently to protect
the property。 Transportation or
