“I don’t mind, Pa. I could bear much harder trials—for John.”
The closing words were not so softly and blushingly said but that John heard them, and showed that he heard them by again assisting Bella to another of those mysterious disappearances.
“Well!” said the cherub gaily, and not expressing disapproval, “when you — when you come back from retirement, my love, and reappear on the surface, I think it will be time to lock up and go.”
If the counting-house of Chicksey, Veneering, and Stobbles had ever been shut up by three happier people, glad as most people were to shut it up, they must have been superlatively happy indeed. But first Bella mounted upon Rumty’s Perch, and said, “Show me what you do here all day long, dear Pa. Do you write like this?” laying her round cheek upon her plump left arm, and losing sight of her pen in waves of hair, in a highly unbusiness-like manner. Though John Rokesmith seemed to like it.
So, the three hobgoblins, having effaced all traces of their feast, and swept up the crumbs, came out of Mincing Lane to walk to Holloway; and if two of the hobgoblins didn’t wish the distance twice as long as it was, the third hobgoblin was much mistaken. Indeed, that modest spirit deemed himself so much in the way of their deep enjoyment of the journey, that he apologetically remarked: “I think, my dears, I’ll take the lead on the other side of the road, and seem not to belong to you.” Which he did, cherubically strewing the path with smiles, in the absence of flowers.
It was almost ten o’clock when they stopped within view of Wilfer Castle; and then, the spot being quiet and deserted, Bella began a series of disappearances which threatened to last all night.
“I think, John,” the cherub hinted at last, “that if you can spare me the young person distantly related to myself, I’ll take her in.”
“I can’t spare her,” answered John, “but I must lend her to you. — My Darling!” A word of magic which caused Bella instantly to disappear again.
“Now, dearest Pa,” said Bella, when she became visible, “put your hand in mine, and we’ll run home as fast as ever we can run, and get it over. Now, Pa. Once!—”
“My dear,” the cherub faltered, with something of a craven air, “I was going to observe that if your mother—”
“You mustn’t hang back, sir, to gain time,” cried Bella, putting out her right foot; “do you see that, sir? That’s the mark; come up to the mark, sir. Once! Twice! Three times and away, Pa!” Off she skimmed, bearing the cherub along, nor ever stopped, nor suffered him to stop, until she had pulled at the bell. “Now, dear Pa,” said Bella, taking him by both ears as if he were a pitcher, and conveying his face to her rosy lips, “we are in for it!”
Miss Lavvy came out to open the gate, waited on by that attentive cavalier and friend of the family, Mr. George Sampson. “Why, it’s never Bella!” exclaimed Miss Lavvy starting back at the sight. And then bawled, “Ma! Here’s Bella!”
This produced, before they could get into the house, Mrs. Wilfer. Who, standing in the portal, received them with ghostly gloom, and all her other appliances of ceremony.
“My child is welcome, though unlooked for,” said she, at the time presenting her cheek as if it were a cool slate for visitors to enrol themselves upon. “You too, R. W., are welcome, though late. Does the male domestic of Mrs. Boffin hear me there?” This deep-toned inquiry was cast forth into the night, for response from the menial in question.
“There is no one waiting, Ma, dear,” said Bella.