he did it, not because he was at all tired of the exercise, but because he was out of breath. The pause reminded him of other duties.
"Mr. Martin Chuzzlewit's outside," he said. "I left him under the cart-shed, while I came on to see if there was anybody here. We want to keep quiet to-night, 'till we know the news from you, and what it's best for us to do."
"There's not a soul in the house except the kitchen company," returned the hostess. "If they were to know you had come back, Mark, they'd have a bonfire in the street, late as it is."
"But they mustn't know it to-night, my precious soul," said Mark: "so have the house shut, and the kitchen fire made up; and when it's all ready, put a light in the winder, and we 'll come in. One more! I long to hear about old friends. You 'll tell me all about 'em, won't you: Mr. Pinch, and the butcher's dog down the street, and the terrier over the way, and the wheelwright's, and every one of 'em. When I first caught sight of the church to-night, I thought the steeple would have choked me, I did. One more! Won't you? Not a very little one to finish off with?"
"You have had plenty, I am sure," said the hostess. "Go along with your foreign manners!"
"That aint foreign, bless you!" cried Mark. "Native as oysters, that is! One more, because it's native! As a mark of respect for the land we live in! This don't count as between you and me, you understand," said Mr. Tapley. "I a'n't a kissin' you now, you'll observe. I have been among the patriots: I'm a kissin' my country."'
It would have been very unreasonable to complain of the exhibition of his patriotism with which he followed up this explanation, that it was all lukewarm or indifferent. When he had given full expression to his nationality, he hurried off to Martin; while Mrs. Lupin, in a state of great agitation and excitement, prepared for their reception.
The company soon came tumbling out: insisting to each other that the Dragon clock was half an hour too fast, and that the thunder must have affected it. Impatient, wet, and weary, though they were, Martin and Mark were overjoyed to see these old faces, and watched them with delighted interest, as they departed from the house, and passed close by them.
"There's the old tailor, Mark!" whispered Martin.
"There he goes, Sir! A little bandyer than he was, I think, Sir, aint he? His figure's so far altered, as it seems to me, that you might wheel a rather larger barrow between his legs as he walks, than you could have done conveniently, when we know'd him. There's Sam a coming out, Sir."
"Ah, to be sure!" cried Martin: "Sam, the hostler. I wonder whether that horse of Pecksniff's is alive still?"
"Not a doubt on it, Sir," returned Mark. "That's a description of animal, Sir, as will go on in a bony way peculiar to himself for a long time, and get into the newspapers at last under the title of 'Sing'lar Tenacity of Life in a Quadruped.' As if he had ever been alive in all his life, worth mentioning! There's the clerk, Sir,—wery drunk, sls usual."
