‘Yes, he is, sir,’ replied the fat clerk, turning his spectacle-glasses towards his principal, and his eyes towards Nicholas, ‘but Mr. Trimmers is with him.’
‘Ay! And what has he come about, Tim?’ said Mr. Cheeryble.
‘He is getting up a subscription for the widow and family of a man who was killed in the East India Docks this morning, sir,’ rejoined Tim. ‘Smashed, sir, by a cask of sugar.’
‘He is a good creature,’ said Mr. Cheeryble, with great earnestness. ‘He is a kind soul. I am very much obliged to Trimmers. Trimmers is one of the best friends we have. He makes a thousand cases known to us that we should never discover of ourselves. I am very much obliged to Trimmers.’ Saying which, Mr. Cheeryble rubbed his hands with infinite delight, and Mr Trimmers happening to pass the door that instant, on his way out, shot out after him and caught him by the hand.
‘I owe you a thousand thanks, Trimmers, ten thousand thanks. I take it very friendly of you, very friendly indeed,’ said Mr. Cheeryble, dragging him into a corner to get out of hearing. ‘How many children are there, and what has my brother Ned given, Trimmers?’
‘There are six children,’ replied the gentleman, ‘and your brother has given us twenty pounds.’
‘My brother Ned is a good fellow, and you’re a good fellow too, Trimmers,’ said the old man, shaking him by both hands with trembling eagerness. ‘Put me down for another twenty—or—stop a minute, stop a minute. We mustn’t look ostentatious; put me down ten pound, and Tim Linkinwater ten pound. A cheque for twenty pound for Mr. Trimmers, Tim. God bless you, Trimmers—and come and dine with us some day this week; you’ll always find a knife and fork, and we shall be delighted. Now, my dear sir—cheque from Mr. Linkinwater, Tim. Smashed by a cask of sugar, and six poor children—oh dear, dear, dear!’
Talking on in this strain, as fast as he could, to prevent any friendly remonstrances from the collector of the subscription on the large amount of his donation, Mr. Cheeryble led Nicholas, equally astonished and affected by what he had seen and heard in this short space, to the half-opened door of another room.
‘Brother Ned,’ said Mr. Cheeryble, tapping with his knuckles, and stooping to listen, ‘are you busy, my dear brother, or can you spare time for a word or two with me?’
‘Brother Charles, my dear fellow,’ replied a voice from the inside, so like in its tones to that which had just spoken, that Nicholas started, and almost thought it was the same, ‘don’t ask me such a question, but come in directly.’