“I don’t wish to be complimented upon it, I thank you; but I think I have an idea,” Mr. Grewgious announced, after taking a jog-trot or two across the room, so unexpected and unaccountable that they all stared at him, doubtful whether he was choking or had the cramp—“I think I have an idea. I believe I have had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Tartar’s name as tenant of the top set in the house next the top set in the corner?”
“Yes, sir,” returned Mr. Tartar. “You are right so far.”
“I am right so far,” said Mr. Grewgious. “Tick that off;” which he did, with his right thumb on his left. “Might you happen to know the name of your neighbour in the top set on the other side of the party-wall?” coming very close to Mr. Tartar, to lose nothing of his face, in his shortness of sight.
“Landless.”
“Tick that off,” said Mr. Grewgious, taking another trot, and then coming back. “No personal knowledge, I suppose, sir?”
“Slight, but some.”
“Tick that off,” said Mr. Grewgious, taking another trot, and again coming back. “Nature of knowledge, Mr. Tartar?”
“I thought he seemed to be a young fellow in a poor way, and I asked his leave—only within a day or so—to share my flowers up there with him; that is to say, to extend my flower-garden to his windows.”
“Would you have the kindness to take seats?” said Mr. Grewgious. “I have an idea!”
They complied; Mr. Tartar none the less readily, for being all abroad; and Mr. Grewgious, seated in the centre, with his hands upon his knees, thus stated his idea, with his usual manner of having got the statement by heart.