A consultation as to new lodgings.—Also a consultation with counsel.
It was a subject of grave discussion between the Bumpkins and Joe, as to where would be the best place for the plaintiff to lodge on his next visit to London. If he had moved in the upper ranks of life, in all probability he would have taken Mrs. Bumpkin to his town house: but being only a plain man and a farmer, it was necessary to decide upon the most convenient, and at the same time, inexpensive locality.
Mrs. Bumpkin, who, of course, knew all about her husband’s adventures, was strongly opposed to his returning to the Goose. Never had created thing lost so much in her estimation by mere association as this domestic bird. Joe was a fine soldier, no doubt, but it was the Goose that had taken him in.
Curiously enough, as they were discussing this important question, who should come in but honest Lawyer Prigg himself.
What a blessing that man seemed to be, go where he would! Why, he spread an air of hope and cheerfulness over this simple household the moment he entered it! But the greatest virtue he dispensed was resignation; he had a large stock of this on hand. He always preached
it: “resignation to the will of Providence;” resignation to him, Prigg!
So when he came in with his respectable head, professional collar, and virtuous necktie, Mr. and Mrs. Bumpkin could not choose but rise. Mr. Bumpkin meekly pulled his hair, and humbly bowed obeisance as to his benefactor. Mrs. Bumpkin curtseyed as to a superior power, whom she could not recognize as a benefactor. Joe stood up, and looked as if he couldn’t quite make out what Mr. Prigg was. He knew he worked the Law somehow, and “summut like as a man works a steam-threshing machine, but how or by what means, was a mystery unrevealed to the mind of the simple soldier.”
“Good morning! good morning!” said Mr. Prigg, after the manner of a patriarch conferring a blessing. “Well, Joe, so you are returned, are you? Come, now, let me shake hands with one of our brave heroes!”
What condescension! and his tone was the tone of a man reaching down from a giddy height to the world beneath him.
“So you were in the thick of the fight, were you—dear me! what a charge that was!” Ah, but, dear reader, you should see Prigg’s charges!