‘Can’t say, sir, really. When the chambermaid asked him just now if he should want a bed, sir, he first made faces at her, and then wanted to kiss her.’
‘Beg him to walk this way,’ said the single gentleman. ‘I should be glad to exchange a word with him, tell him. Beg him to come at once, do you hear?’
The man stared on receiving these instructions, for the single gentleman had not only displayed as much astonishment as Kit’s mother at sight of the dwarf, but, standing in no fear of him, had been at less pains to conceal his dislike and repugnance. He departed on his errand, however, and immediately returned, ushering in its object.
‘Your servant, sir,’ said the dwarf, ‘I encountered your messenger half-way. I thought you’d allow me to pay my compliments to you. I hope you’re well. I hope you’re very well.’
There was a short pause, while the dwarf, with half-shut eyes and puckered face, stood waiting for an answer. Receiving none, he turned towards his more familiar acquaintance.
‘Christopher’s mother!’ he cried. ‘Such a dear lady, such a worthy woman, so blest in her honest son! How is Christopher’s mother? Have change of air and scene improved her? Her little family too, and Christopher? Do they thrive? Do they flourish? Are they growing into worthy citizens, eh?’
Making his voice ascend in the scale with every succeeding question, Mr Quilp finished in a shrill squeak, and subsided into the panting look which was customary with him, and which, whether it were assumed or natural, had equally the effect of banishing all expression from his face, and rendering it, as far as it afforded any index to his mood or meaning, a perfect blank.
‘Mr Quilp,’ said the single gentleman.
The dwarf put his hand to his great flapped ear, and counterfeited the closest attention.
‘We two have met before—’