At the conclusion of these observations, which drew forth evidences of acute feeling from Mrs. Kenwigs, and had the intended effect of impressing the company with a deep sense of the collector’s dignity, a ring was heard at the bell.
"That's him," whispered Mr. Kenwigs, greatly excited, "Morleena, my dear, run down and let your uncle in, and kiss him directly you get the door open. Hem! Let's be talking."
Adopting Mr. Kenwigs's suggestion, the company spoke very loudly, to look easy and unembarrassed; and almost as soon as they had begun to do so, a short old gentleman, in drabs and gaiters, with a face that might have been carved out of lignum vitæ for anything that appeared to the contrary, was led playfully in by Miss Morleena Kenwigs, regarding whose uncommon Christian name it may be here remarked that it was invented and composed by Mrs. Kenwigs previous to her first lying-in, for the special distinction of her eldest child, in case it should prove a daughter.
"Oh uncle, I am so glad to see you," said Mrs. Kenwigs, kissing the collector affectionately on both cheeks. "So glad."
"Many happy returns of the day, my dear," replied the collector, returning the compliment.
Now this was an interesting thing. Here was a collector of water-rates without his book, without his pen and ink, without his double knock, without his intimidation, kissing—actually kissing—an agreeable female, and leaving taxes, summonses, notices that he had called, or announcements that he would never call again for two quarters' due, wholly out of the question. It was pleasant to see how the company looked on, quite absorbed in the sight, and to behold the nods and winks with which they expressed their gratification at finding so much humanity in a tax-gatherer.
"Where will you sit, uncle?" said Mrs. Kenwigs, in the full glow of family pride, which the appearance of her distinguished relation occasioned.
"Anywheres, my dear," said the collector, "I am not particular."
Not particular! What a meek collector. If he had been an author, who knew his place, he couldn't have been more humble.
"Mr. Lillyvick," said Kenwigs, addressing the collector; "some friends here, sir, are very anxious for the honour of—thank you—Mr. and Mrs. Cutler, Mr. Lillyvick."
"Proud to know you, Sir," said Mr. Cutler, "I've heerd of you very often." These were not mere words of ceremony; for Mr. Cutler, having kept house in Mr. Lillyvick's parish, had heard of him very often indeed. His attention in calling had been quite extraordinary.
"George, you know, I think, Mr. Lillyvick," said Kenwigs; "lady from down stairs—Mr. Lillyvick, Mr. Snewkes—Mr. Lillyvick. Miss Green—Mr. Lillyvick. Mr. Lillyvick. Miss Petowker of the Theatre Royal Drury Lane. Very glad to make two public characters acquainted. Mrs. Kenwigs, my dear, will you sort the counters?"
Mrs. Kenwigs, with the assistance of Newman Noggs, (who, as he performed sundry little acts of kindness for the children at all times and seasons, was humoured in his request to be taken no notice of, and
