"Have patience, my dear Titmouse," said Gammon, in a low whisper, "in a few months' time you'll soon be thrown into much higher life than even this—among really beautiful, and rich, and accomplished women"—[and, thought Gammon, you'll resemble a monkey that has found his way into a rich tulip-bed!]
"Fancy that girl Tag-rag standing beside Miss Quirk!" whispered Titmouse, scornfully.
"Ha, ha!" gently laughed Gammon—"both of them, in their way, are very worthy persons; but"—Here the ladies withdrew. 'Twas no part of Gammon's schemes, that Titmouse should become the son-in-law of either Quirk or Tag-rag. Mr. Gammon had formed already, vastly different plans for him!
As soon as Quirk had taken the head of the table, and the gentlemen drawn together, the bottles were pushed round very briskly, accompanied by no fewer than three different sorts of snuff-boxes, all belonging to Mr. Quirk—all of them presents from grateful Old Bailey clients! One was a huge affair, of Botany Bay wood, with a very flaming inscription on the inside of the lid; from which it appeared that its amiable donors, who were trying the effect of a change of climate on their moral health at the expense of a grateful country, owed their valuable lives to the professional skill and exertions of "Caleb Quirk, Esq." In short, the other two were trophies of a similar description, of which their possessor was very justly not a little proud; and as he saw Titmouse admiring them, it occurred to him as very possible that, within a short time, he should be in possession of a magnificent gold snuff-box, in acknowledgment of the services he should have rendered to his distinguished guest and client. Titmouse was in the highest possible spirits. This, his first glimpse into high life, equalled all his expectations. Round and round went the bottles—crack went joke after joke. Slang sang song upon song, of, however, so very coarse and broad a character as infinitely disgusted Gammon, and apparently shocked the alderman;—though I greatly distrust that old sinner's sincerity in the matter. Then Ghastly's performances commenced. Poor fellow! he exerted himself to the utmost to earn the good dinner he had just devoured; but when he was in the very middle of one of his most impassioned scenes—undoubtedly "tearing a passion to rags,"—Mr. Quirk interrupted impatiently—"Come, come, Ghastly, we've had enough of that sort of thing—it don't suit—d'ye see—at all!—Lord bless us!—don't roar so, man!"
Poor Ghastly instantly resumed his seat, with a chagrined and melancholy air.
"Give us something funny," snuffled the alderman.
"Let's have the chorus of Pigs and Ducks," said Quirk; "you do that remarkable well. I could fancy the animals were running, and squealing, and quacking all about the room!" The actor respectfully did as he was desired, commencing with a sigh, and was much applauded. At length Gammon happened to get into a discussion with Mr. Bluster upon some point connected with the Habeas Corpus Act, in which our friend Gammon, who never got heated in discussion, and was very accurate in whatever he knew, had glaringly the best of it. His calm, smiling self-possession almost drove poor Bluster frantic. The less he knew, of course the louder he talked, the more vehement and positive he became; at length offering a bet that there was no such thing as a writ of Habeas Corpus before the time of Charles II.;[[20]] at which Gammon bowed, smiled, and closed the discussion. While engaged in it, he had of course been unable to keep his eye upon Titmouse, who drank, consequently, claret, port, sherry, and madeira, like a little fish, never letting the decanter pass him. Every one about him filled his glass every time—why should not he?
Hug sat next to Viper; feared him, and avoided discussion with him; for, though they agreed in the lowest Radical politics, they had a personal antipathy each to the other. In spite of their wishes, they at length got entangled in a very virulent controversy, and said so many insulting things to each other, that the rest of the company, who had for some time been amused, got at length—not disgusted—but alarmed, for the possible results—fully expecting the exchange of a brace of wine-glasses against each other's heads! Mr. Quirk therefore interfered.
"Bravo! bravo! bravo!" he exclaimed, as Viper concluded a most envenomed passage, "that will do, Viper—whip it into the next Flash—'t will be a capital leader! It will produce a sensation! And in the mean time, gentlemen, let me request you to fill your glasses—bumpers—for I have a toast to propose, in which you'll all feel interested when you hear who's the subject of it. It is a gentleman who is likely soon to be elevated to a station which Nature has formed him—hem! hem!—to adorn"——
"Mr. Quirk's proposing your health, Titmouse!" whispered Gammon to his companion, who, having been very restless for some time, had at length become quite silent—his head resting on his hand, his elbow on the table—his eyes languidly half open, and his face exceedingly pale. Gammon saw that he was, in truth, in an exceedingly ticklish condition.