"Now, will you have the goodness to tell me what this portends?"
"What?" asked Tom.
"This fellow's behaviour—Mr. Pecksniff's I mean. You saw it?"
"No. Indeed I did not," cried Tom. "I was busy with the trunks."
"It is no matter," said Martin. "Come! Let us make haste back." And without another word he started off at such a pace, that Tom had some difficulty in keeping up with him.
He had no care where he went, but walked through little heaps of mud and little pools of water with the utmost indifference; looking straight before him, and sometimes laughing in a strange manner within himself Tom felt that anything he could say would only render him the more obstinate, and therefore trusted to Mr. Pecksniff's manner when they reached the house, to remove the mistaken impression under which he felt convinced so great a favourite as the new pupil must unquestionably be labouring. But he was not a little amazed himself, when they did reach it, and entered the parlour where Mr. Pecksniff was sitting alone before the fire, drinking some hot tea, to find, that instead of taking favourable notice of his relative, and keeping him, Mr. Pinch, in the background, he did exactly the reverse, and was so lavish in his attentions that Tom was thoroughly confounded.
"Take some tea, Mr. Pinch—take some tea," said Pecksniff, stirring the fire. "You must be very cold and damp. Pray take some tea, and come into a warm place, Mr. Pinch."
Tom saw that Martin looked at Mr. Pecksniff as though he could have easily found it in his heart to give him an invitation to a very warm place; but he was quite silent, and standing opposite that gentleman at the table, regarded him attentively.
"Take a chair, Mr. Pinch," said Pecksniff. "Take a chair, if you please. How have things gone on in our absence, Mr. Pinch?"
"You—you will be very much pleased with the grammar-school, sir," said Tom. "It's nearly finished."
"If you will have the goodness, Mr. Pinch," said Pecksniff, waving his hand and smiling, "we will not discuss anything connected with that question at present. What have you been doing, Thomas, humph?"
Mr. Pinch looked from master to pupil, and from pupil to master, and was so perplexed and dismayed, that he wanted presence of mind to answer the question. In this awkward interval, Mr. Pecksniff (who was perfectly conscious of Martin's gaze, though he had never once glanced towards him) poked the fire very much, and when he couldn't do that any more, drank tea, assiduously.
"Now, Mr. Pecksniff," said Martin at last, in a very quiet voice, "if you have sufficiently refreshed and recovered yourself, I shall be glad to hear what you mean by this treatment of me."
"And what," said Mr. Pecksniff, turning his eyes on Tom Pinch, even more placidly and gently than before, "what have you been doing Thomas, humph?"
When he had repeated this inquiry, he looked round the walls of the room as if he were curious to see whether any nails had been left there by accident in former times.
Tom was almost at his wits' end what to say between the two, and
