"Away we went to the cottage inhabited by old Dobbin, my two aged companions really showing me the way, while I pretended to be quite familiar with it. The moment we came in sight of my alleged uncle's residence, old Buckley and Dottings (whose names I had found out from their own discourse with me) hobbled forward, exclaiming, 'Here's the prodigal returned, Brother Dobbin!'—'Kill the fatted calf, Brother Dobbin!' And in a few moments I was in my alleged uncle's arms.
"Then the fatted calf was indeed killed. Dame Margery, the old man's housekeeper, was compelled to bustle about to prepare a copious supper—a duty which she performed with a very bad grace, and with sundry suspicious leers and side-glances towards me. I took no notice of her ill-humour, but rattled away about my adventures by sea and land till the three old men were quite astounded at the marvellous things I had seen and the tremendous perils that I had escaped. Buckley and Dottings were invited to stay to supper; and a merry meal we had. When the things were cleared away, I undertook to brew the punch, assuring the old folks that the compound would be made according to a recipe which I had obtained from the king of the Inaccessible Islands.
"Well, the punch was made; and there it stood steaming in an enormous bowl upon the table. I was determined to enjoy myself; for I purposed to pack up every thing portable during the night and decamp before dawn, for fear that the rightful nephew should return before I had turned my trick to advantage. So I filled the tumblers, and plied the punch to such an extent that even old Margery's ill-humour was overcome by the gaiety of the scene; and she consented to sit down and join us.
"I was just in the middle of a most exciting account of a conflict which I had with a shark at the South Pole, when a loud knock at the door resounded through the house. Margery hastened to obey the summons; and Old Dobbin observed, 'I shouldn't be surprised if this was my cousin George, for I wrote to him the day before yesterday to say that my nephew Tom was coming home, and invited him down to pass a week or so on the happy occasion.' I heard this remark; but the punch had produced such an effect upon me, that I felt no uneasiness. I thought I should be able to get over cousin George as easily as I had done Uncle Dobbin; and so I amused myself by filling the glasses round from the second bowl, which had only just been mixed.
"Meantime Dame Margery, having answered the door, returned, exclaiming, 'It be Master George,' and followed by a person whom her tall gaunt form in some measure hid from me until they were both close to the table. Then what a dreadful scene took place! In cousin George, to my horror and dismay, I beheld the red-faced man that I'd met at the Three Compasses, and whose drab trousers adorned me at that very moment!
"I leapt from my seat, and was making as fast as I could to the door, when cousin George shouted out, 'Holloa! who have we here?'—and, springing forward, he collared me in a moment. 'What's the matter? what's the matter?' demanded old Dobbin.—'My stars! what's this mean?' exclaimed Dame Margery.—'Why, it means that this fellow is a robber, and has got on my breeches and boots!' vociferated cousin George, growing purple in the face with rage, and giving me a violent shake.—'Your breeches!' cried old Buckley.—'Your boots!' mumbled old Dottings.—'Yes, to be sure!' shouted the red-faced man. 'Go and fetch a constable.'—Why, you don't mean that nephew Tom has done this?' said old Dobbin.—'Nephew Tom!' exclaimed cousin George, letting go his hold upon my coat: 'no!'—'But I say yes, though,' said I, putting a bold face upon the matter: 'I knew you directly when I met you at the Three Compasses last night, and only did it by way of a lark.'
"But this turn did not serve me. While I spoke, cousin George surveyed me attentively; and, again rushing upon me, he roared out, 'He's a cheat! he's an impostor! Tom has a mole on the left cheek, and he's none: Tom has a cut over the right eye, and he hasn't. Go for a constable.'—'Well, I thought all along he was a rogue,' cried Dame Margery, hurrying off to execute this most unpleasant order.
"My case now seemed desperate; and not a moment was to be lost. Casting my eyes rapidly around in search of some weapon of defence or avenue of escape, I espied the punch-bowl, three parts full of steaming liquor, within my reach. With the rapidity of lightning I seized it, and dashed it over like a hat upon cousin George's head. He uttered a terrific yell as the hot punch streamed down him; and I precipitated myself from the room as if a blood-hound was at my heels.
"Away I scudded—a hue and cry after me: but I ran like a race-horse; and in a few minutes was beyond the sound of the 'Stop, thief,' raised by cousin George's ominous voice.
"That was an excellent adventure; I have often and often laughed at it since, and wondered whether the real Tom Tittlebat ever did return. At all events I kept cousin George's trousers and boots; but they got me into more scrapes yet.