Mr. Gammon experienced little trouble in wheedling Mr. Quirk out of his purpose of enforcing payment, by Mr. Aubrey, of the balance of his account; demonstrating to the old gentleman the policy of waiting a little longer. He pledged himself, when the proper time came, to adopt measures of undoubted efficacy—assuring his for some time sullen senior, in a low tone, that since his letter had reached Mr. Aubrey, circumstances had occurred which would render it in the last degree dangerous to press that gentleman upon the subject. What that was, which had happened, Mr. Gammon, as usual, refused to state. This was a considerable source of vexation to Mr. Quirk: but he had a far greater one, in the decisive and final overthrow of his fondly-cherished hopes concerning his daughter's alliance with Titmouse. The paragraph in the Aurora, announcing Mr. Titmouse's engagement to his brilliant relative, the Lady Cecilia, had emanated from the pen of Mr. Gammon; who had had several objects in view in giving early publicity to the event. Happening(!) on the morning on which it appeared, to be glancing over the fascinating columns of the Aurora at a public office, (the paper taken in at their own establishment being the Morning Growl,) he made a point of purchasing that day's Aurora; and on returning to Saffron Hill, he inquired whether Mr. Quirk were at home. Hearing that he was sitting alone, in his room—in rushed Mr. Gammon, breathless with surprise and haste, and plucking the newspaper out of his pocket,—"By Heavens, Mr. Quirk!"—he almost gasped as he doubled down the paper to the place where stood the announcement in question, and put it into Mr. Quirk's hands,—"this young fellow's given you the slip, after all! See!—The moment that my back is turned"——
Mr. Quirk having, with a little trepidation, adjusted his spectacles, perused the paragraph with a somewhat flushed face. He had, in fact, for some time had grievous misgivings on the subject of his chance of becoming the father-in-law of his distinguished client, Mr. Titmouse; but now his faintest glimmering of hope was suddenly and completely extinguished, and the old gentleman felt quite desolate. He looked up, as soon as he had finished reading, and gazed ruefully at his indignant and sympathizing companion.
"It seems all up, Gammon, certainly—don't it?" said he, faintly, with a flustered air.
"Indeed, my dear Mr. Quirk, it does! You have my sincerest"——
"Now comes t'other end of the thing, Gammon! You know every promise of marriage has two ends—one joins the heart, and t'other the pocket; out heart, in pocket—so have at him, Gammon—have at him, by Jove!" He rose up and rubbed his hands as he stood before the fire. "Breach of promise—thundering damages—devilish deep purse—special jury—broken heart, and all that! I wish he'd written her—by the way—more letters! Adad, I'll have a shot at him by next assizes—a writ on the file this very day! What d'ye think on't, friend Gammon, between ourselves?" quoth Mr. Quirk, heatedly.
"Why, my dear sir—to tell you the truth—aren't you really well out of it? He's a miserable little upstart—he'd have made a wretched husband for so superior a girl as Miss Quirk."
"Ay—ay! ay! She is a good girl, Gammon—there you're right; would have made the best of wives—my eyes, (between ourselves!) how that'll go to the jury! Gad, I fancy I see'em—perhaps all of'em daughters of their own."
"Looking at the thing calmly, Mr. Quirk," said Gammon, gravely—apprehensive of Mr. Quirk's carrying too far so very absurd an affair—"where's the evidence of the promise?—Because, you know, there's certainly something depends on that—eh?"
"Evidence? Deuce take you, Gammon! where are your wits? Evidence? Lots—lots of it! A'n't there I—her father? A'n't I a competent[31] witness? Wait and see old Caleb Quirk get into the box. I'll settle his hash in half a minute."
"Yes—if you're believed, perhaps."