‘I am very glad to hear it,’ returned Martin, shaking hands with him again; ‘for I assure you, I was thinking there could be no such luck as Mr Pinch’s turning out like you.’
‘No, really!’ said Tom, with great pleasure. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Upon my word I am,’ replied his new acquaintance. ‘You and I will get on excellently well, I know; which it’s no small relief to me to feel, for to tell you the truth, I am not at all the sort of fellow who could get on with everybody, and that’s the point on which I had the greatest doubts. But they’re quite relieved now.—Do me the favour to ring the bell, will you?’
Mr Pinch rose, and complied with great alacrity—the handle hung just over Martin’s head, as he warmed himself—and listened with a smiling face to what his friend went on to say. It was:
‘If you like punch, you’ll allow me to order a glass apiece, as hot as it can be made, that we may usher in our friendship in a becoming manner. To let you into a secret, Mr Pinch, I never was so much in want of something warm and cheering in my life; but I didn’t like to run the chance of being found drinking it, without knowing what kind of person you were; for first impressions, you know, often go a long way, and last a long time.’
Mr Pinch assented, and the punch was ordered. In due course it came; hot and strong. After drinking to each other in the steaming mixture, they became quite confidential.
‘I’m a sort of relation of Pecksniff’s, you know,’ said the young man.
‘Indeed!’ cried Mr Pinch.
‘Yes. My grandfather is his cousin, so he’s kith and kin to me, somehow, if you can make that out. I can’t.’
‘Then Martin is your Christian name?’ said Mr Pinch, thoughtfully. ‘Oh!’