Mr. Pocket, Junior’s, idea of Shortly was not mine,for I had nearly maddened myself with looking out for half an hour,and had written my name with my finger several times in the dirt of every pane in the window, before I heard footsteps on the stairs. Gradually there arose before me the hat, head, neckcloth, waistcoat, trousers, boots, of a member of society of about my own standing. He had a paper-bag under each arm and a pottle of strawberries in one hand, and was out of breath.
“Mr. Pip?” said he.
“Mr. Pocket?” said I.
“Dear me!” he exclaimed. “I am extremely sorry;but I knew there was a coach from your part of the country at midday,and I thought you would come by that one. The fact is,I have been out on your account,—not that that is any excuse,—for I thought,coming from the country,you might like a little fruit after dinner,and I went to Covent Garden Market to get it good.”
For a reason that I had,I felt as if my eyes would start out of my head.I acknowledged his attention incoherently,and began to think this was a dream.
“Dear me!” said Mr. Pocket, Junior. “This door sticks so!”
As he was fast making jam of his fruit by wrestling with the door while the paper-bags were under his arms, I begged him to allow me to hold them. He relinquished them with an agreeable smile, and combated with the door as if it were a wild beast. It yielded so suddenly at last, that he staggered back upon me, and I staggered back upon the opposite door, and we both laughed. But still I felt as if my eyes must start out of my head, and as if this must be a dream.
“Pray come in,” said Mr. Pocket, Junior.“Allow me to lead the way. I am rather bare here,but I hope you’ll be able to make out tolerably well till Monday.My father thought you would get on more agreeably through to-morrow with me than with him, and might like to take a walk about London. I am sure I shall be very happy to show London to you. As to our table, you won’t find that bad, I hope, for it will be supplied from our coffee-house here, and (it is only right I should add) at your expense, such being Mr. Jaggers’s directions. As to our lodging, it’s not by any means splendid, because I have my own bread to earn, and my father hasn’t anything to give me, and I shouldn’t be willing to take it, if he had. This is our sitting-room,—just such chairs and tables and carpet and so forth, you see, as they could spare from home. You mustn’t give me credit for the tablecloth and spoons and castors, because they come for you from the coffee-house. This is my little bedroom; rather musty, but Barnard’s _is_ musty. This is your bedroom; the furniture’s hired for the occasion, but I trust it will answer the purpose; if you should want anything, I’ll go and fetch it. The chambers are retired, and we shall be alone together, but we shan’t fight, I dare say. But dear me, I beg your pardon, you’re holding the fruit all this time. Pray let me take these bags from you. I am quite ashamed.”
As I stood opposite to Mr. Pocket, Junior,delivering him the bags, One, Two,I saw the starting appearance come into his own eyes that I knew to be in mine,and he said, falling back,—
“Lord bless me, you’re the prowling boy!”
“And you,” said I, “are the pale young gentleman!”
Chapter XXII.
The pale young gentleman and I stood contemplating one another in Barnard’s Inn,until we both burst out laughing.“The idea of its being you!” said he. “The idea of its being _you_!” said I. And then we contemplated one another afresh,and laughed again. “Well!” said the pale young gentleman,reaching out his hand good-humouredly,“it’s all over now, I hope,and it will be magnanimous in you if you’ll forgive me for having knocked you about so.”
I derived from this speech that Mr.Herbert Pocket (for Herbert was the pale young gentleman’s name) still rather confounded his intention with his execution. But I made a modest reply, and we shook hands warmly.
“You hadn’t come into your good fortune at that time?” said Herbert Pocket.
“No,” said I.
“No,” he acquiesced:“I heard it had happened very lately._I_ was rather on the lookout for good fortune then.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes. Miss Havisham had sent for me,to see if she could take a fancy to me.But she couldn’t,—at all events, she didn’t.”
I thought it polite to remark that I was surprised to hear that.
“Bad taste,” said Herbert, laughing, “but a fact. Yes,she had sent for me on a trial visit,and if I had come out of it successfully,I suppose I should have been provided for;perhaps I should have been what-you-may-called it to Estella. ”
“What’s that?” I asked, with sudden gravity.
He was arranging his fruit in plates while we talked,which divided his attention,and was the cause of his having made this lapse of a word.“Affianced,” he explained, still busy with the fruit.“Betrothed. Engaged. What’s-his-named.Any word of that sort.”
“How did you bear your disappointment?” I asked.
“Pooh!” said he, “I didn’t care much for it. _She’s_ a Tartar. ”
“Miss Havisham?”
“I don’t say no to that, but I meant Estella.That girl’s hard and haughty and capricious to the last degree,and has been brought up by Miss Havisham to wreak revenge on all the male sex. ”
“What relation is she to Miss Havisham?”
“None,” said he. “Only adopted.”
“Why should she wreak revenge on all the male sex?What revenge?”
“Lord, Mr. Pip!” said he. “Don’t you know?”
“No,” said I.
“Dear me!It’s quite a story, and shall be saved till dinner-time.And now let me take the liberty of asking you a question.How did you come there, that day?”
I told him, and he was attentive until I had finished,and then burst out laughing again,and asked me if I was sore afterwards?I didn’t ask him if _he_ was,for my conviction on that point was perfectly established.
“Mr. Jaggers is your guardian, I understand?” he went on.
“Yes.”
“You know he is Miss Havisham’s man of business and solicitor,and has her confidence when nobody else has?”
This was bringing me (I felt) towards dangerous ground.I answered with a constraint I made no attempt to disguise,that I had seen Mr.Jaggers in Miss Havisham’s house on the very day of our combat,but never at any other time,and that I believed he had no recollection of having ever seen me there.