“There’s no occasion to trouble ourselves to move,” said Noah, getting his legs by gradual degrees abroad again. “She’ll take the luggage up stairs the while. Charlotte, see to them bundles.”
This mandate, which had been delivered with great majesty, was obeyed without the slightest demur, and Charlotte made the best of her way off with the packages while Noah held the door open, and watched her out.
“She’s kept tolerably well under, ain’t she, sir?” he asked as he resumed his seat, in the tone of a keeper who has tamed some wild animal.
“Quite perfect,” rejoined Fagin, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re a genius, my dear.”
“Why, I suppose if I wasn’t I shouldn’t be here,” replied Noah. “But, I say, she’ll be back if yer lose time.”
“Now, what do you think?” said the Jew. “If you was to like my friend, could you do better than join him?”
“Is he in a good way of business, that’s where it is?” responded Noah, winking one of his little eyes.
“The top of the tree,” said the Jew, “employs a power of hands; and has the very best society in the profession.”
“Regular town-maders?” asked Mr. Claypole.