Chapter 18 - Page 2

Dorrit down-stairs. All Mr Dorrit's protestations
being in vain, he enjoyed the honour of being accompanied to the
hall-door by this distinguished man, who (as Mr Dorrit told him in
shaking hands on the step) had really overwhelmed him with
attentions and services during this memorable visit. Thus they
parted; Mr Dorrit entering his carriage with a swelling breast, not
at all sorry that his Courier, who had come to take leave in the
lower regions, should have an opportunity of beholding the grandeur
of his departure.

The aforesaid grandeur was yet full upon Mr Dorrit when he alighted
at his hotel. Helped out by the Courier and some half-dozen of the
hotel servants, he was passing through the hall with a serene
magnificence, when lo! a sight presented itself that struck him
dumb and motionless. John Chivery, in his best clothes, with his
tall hat under his arm, his ivory-handled cane genteelly
embarrassing his deportment, and a bundle of cigars in his hand!

'Now, young man,' said the porter. 'This is the gentleman. This
young man has persisted in waiting, sir, saying you would be glad
to see him.'

Mr Dorrit glared on the young man, choked, and said, in the mildest
of tones, 'Ah! Young John! It is Young John, I think; is it not?'

'Yes, sir,' returned Young John.

'I--ha--thought it was Young john!' said Mr Dorrit. 'The young man
may come up,' turning to the attendants, as he passed on: 'oh yes,
he may come up. Let Young John follow. I will speak to him
above.'

Young John followed, smiling and much gratified. Mr Dorrit's rooms
were reached. Candles were lighted. The attendants withdrew.

'Now, sir,' said Mr Dorrit, turning round upon him and seizing him
by the collar when they were safely alone. 'What do you mean by
this?'

The amazement and horror depicted in the unfortunate john's face--
for he had rather expected to be embraced next--were of that
powerfully expressive nature that Mr Dorrit withdrew his hand and
merely glared at him.

'How dare you do this?' said Mr Dorrit. 'How do you presume to
come here? How dare you insult me?'

'I insult you, sir?' cried Young John. 'Oh!'

'Yes, sir,' returned Mr Dorrit. 'Insult me. Your coming here is
an affront, an impertinence, an audacity. You are not wanted here.

Who sent you here? What--ha--the Devil do you do here?'

'I thought, sir,' said Young John, with as pale and shocked a face
as ever had been turned to Mr Dorrit's in his life--even in his
College life: 'I thought, sir, you mightn't object to have the
goodness to accept a bundle--'

'Damn your bundle, sir!' cried Mr Dorrit, in irrepressible rage.
'I--hum--don't smoke.'

'I humbly beg your pardon, sir.