“See here, Brother,” said the Captain. “This here’s old Sol Gills’s nevy Wal”r. Him as was supposed to have perished at sea.”
Mr Toots took his hand from his forehead, and stared at Walter.
“Good gracious me!” stammered Mr Toots. “What a complication of misery! How-de-do? I—I—I’m afraid you must have got very wet. Captain Gills, will you allow me a word in the shop?”
He took the Captain by the coat, and going out with him whispered:
“That then, Captain Gills, is the party you spoke of, when you said that he and Miss Dombey were made for one another?”
“Why, ay, my lad,” replied the disconsolate Captain; “I was of that mind once.”
“And at this time!” exclaimed Mr Toots, with his hand to his forehead again. “Of all others!—a hated rival! At least, he ain’t a hated rival,” said Mr Toots, stopping short, on second thoughts, and taking away his hand; “what should I hate him for? No. If my affection has been truly disinterested, Captain Gills, let me prove it now!”
Mr Toots shot back abruptly into the parlour, and said, wringing Walter by the hand:
“How-de-do? I hope you didn’t take any cold. I—I shall be very glad if you’ll give me the pleasure of your acquaintance. I wish you many happy returns of the day. Upon my word and honour,” said Mr Toots, warming as he became better acquainted with Walter’s face and figure, “I’m very glad to see you!”
“Thank you, heartily,” said Walter. “I couldn’t desire a more genuine and genial welcome.”