‘The great Mr Pecksniff, the celebrated architect, gentlemen,’ returned the landlord, who seemed to have an unspeakable delight in the repetition of these words, ‘carried off the First Premium, and will erect the building.’
‘Who lays the stone?’ asked Martin.
‘Our member has come down express,’ returned the landlord. ‘No scrubs would do for no such a purpose. Nothing less would satisfy our Directors than our member in the House of Commons, who is returned upon the Gentlemanly Interest.’
‘Which interest is that?’ asked Martin.
‘What, don’t you know!’ returned the landlord.
It was quite clear the landlord didn’t. They always told him at election time, that it was the Gentlemanly side, and he immediately put on his top-boots, and voted for it.
‘When does the ceremony take place?’ asked Martin.
‘This day,’ replied the landlord. Then pulling out his watch, he added, impressively, ‘almost this minute.’
Martin hastily inquired whether there was any possibility of getting in to witness it; and finding that there would be no objection to the admittance of any decent person, unless indeed the ground were full, hurried off with Mark, as hard as they could go.
They were fortunate enough to squeeze themselves into a famous corner on the ground, where they could see all that passed, without much dread of being beheld by Mr Pecksniff in return. They were not a minute too soon, for as they were in the act of congratulating each other, a great noise was heard at some distance, and everybody looked towards the gate. Several ladies prepared their pocket handkerchiefs for waving; and a stray teacher belonging to the charity school being much cheered by mistake, was immensely groaned at when detected.