Tapley issued forth next morning, after breakfast, charged with a letter from Martin to his grandfather, requesting leave to wait upon him for a few minutes. And postponing as he went along the congratulations of his numerous friends until a more convenient season, he soon arrived at Mr. Pecksniff's house. At that gentleman's door: with a face so immoveable that it would have been next to an impossibility for the most acute physiognomist to determine what he was thinking about, or whether he was thinking at all: he straightway knocked.
A person of Mr. Tapley's observation could not long remain insensible to the fact, that Mr. Pecksniff was making the end of his nose very blunt against the glass of the parlour window, in an angular attempt to discover who had knocked at the door. Nor was Mr. Tapley slow to baffle this movement on the part of the enemy, by perching himself on the top step, and presenting the crown of his hat in that direction. But possibly Mr. Pecksniff had already seen him, for Mark soon heard his shoes creaking, as he advanced to open the door with his own hands.
Mr. Pecksniff was as cheerful as ever, and sang a little song in the passage.
"How d'ye do Sir?" said Mark.
"Oh!" cried Mr. Pecksniff. "Tapley, I believe? The Prodigal returned! We don't want any Beer, my friend."
"Thankee Sir," said Mark. "I couldn't accommodate you, if you did. A letter Sir. Wait for an answer."
"For me?" cried Mr. Pecksniff. "And an answer, eh?"
"Not for you I think Sir," said Mark, pointing out the direction. "Chuzzlewit, I believe the name is, Sir."
"Oh!" returned Mr. Pecksniff. "Thank you. Yes. Who's it from, my good young man?"
"The gentleman it comes from, wrote his name inside Sir," returned Mr. Tapley with extreme politeness. "I see him a signing of it at the end, while I was a waitin'."
"And he said he wanted an answer did he?" asked Mr. Pecksniff in his most persuasive manner.
Mark replied in the affirmative.
"He shall have an answer. Certainly," said Mr. Pecksniff, tearing the letter into small pieces as mildly as if that were the most flattering attention a correspondent could receive. "Have the goodness to give him that, with my compliments, if you please. Good morning!" Whereupon, he handed Mark the scraps; retired; and shut the door.
Mark thought it prudent to subdue his personal emotions, and return to Martin, at the Dragon. They were not unprepared for such a reception, and suffered an hour or so to elapse before making another attempt. When this interval had gone by, they returned to Mr. Pecksniff's house in company. Martin knocked this time, while Mr. Tapley prepared himself to keep the door open with his foot and shoulder, when anybody came, and by that means secure an enforced parley. But this precaution was needless, for the servant-girl appeared almost immediately. Brushing quickly past her as he had resolved in such a case to do, Martin (closely followed by his faithful ally) opened the door of that parlour in which
