He rubbed them twice or thrice, but still they insisted that Quilp was there, and there indeed he was, sitting with his hands upon his knees, and his hat between them on a little wooden bracket, with the accustomed grin on his dirty face, and his eyes fixed upon the ceiling.He certainly did not glance at Kit or at his mother, and appeared utterly unconscious of their presence; still Kit could not help feeling, directly, that the attention of the sly little fiend was fastened upon them, and upon nothing else.
But, astounded as he was by the apparition of the dwarf among the Little Bethelites, and not free from a misgiving that it was the forerunner of some trouble or annoyance, he was compelled to subdue his wonder and to take active measures for the withdrawal of his parent, as the evening was now creeping on, and the matter grew serious.Therefore, the next time little Jacob woke, Kit set himself to attract his wandering attention, and this not being a very difficult task (one sneeze effected it), he signed to him to rouse his mother.
Ill-luck would have it, however, that, just then, the preacher, in a forcible exposition of one head of his discourse, leaned over upon the pulpit-desk so that very little more of him than his legs remained inside; and, while he made vehement gestures with his right hand, and held on with his left, stared, or seemed to stare, straight into little Jacob's eyes, threatening him by his strained look and attitude--so it appeared to the child--that if he so much as moved a muscle, he, the preacher, would be literally, and not figuratively, 'down upon him' that instant.In this fearful state of things, distracted by the sudden appearance of Kit, and fascinated by the eyes of the preacher, the miserable Jacob sat bolt upright, wholly incapable of motion, strongly disposed to cry but afraid to do so, and returning his pastor's gaze until his infant eyes seemed starting from their sockets.
'If I must do it openly, I must,' thought Kit.With that he walked softly out of his pew and into his mother's, and as Mr Swiveller would have observed if he had been present, 'collared' the baby without speaking a word.
'Hush, mother!' whispered Kit.'Come along with me, I've got something to tell you.'
'Where am I?' said Mrs Nubbles.
'In this blessed Little Bethel,' returned her son, peevishly.
'Blessed indeed!' cried Mrs Nubbles, catching at the word.'Oh, Christopher, how have I been edified this night!'
'Yes, yes, I know,' said Kit hastily; 'but come along, mother, everybody's looking at us.Don't make a noise--bring Jacob--that's right!'
'Stay, Satan, stay!' cried the preacher, as Kit was moving off.
'This gentleman says you're to stay, Christopher,' whispered his mother.
'Stay, Satan, stay!' roared the preacher again.'Tempt not the woman that doth incline her ear to thee, but harken to the voice of him that calleth.He hath a lamb from the fold!' cried the preacher, raising his voice still higher and pointing to the baby.
'He beareth off a lamb, a precious lamb! He goeth about, like a wolf in the night season, and inveigleth the tender lambs!'
Kit was the best-tempered fellow in the world, but considering this strong language, and being somewhat excited by the circumstances in which he was placed, he faced round to the pulpit with the baby in his arms, and replied aloud, 'No, I don't.He's my brother.'
'He's MY brother!' cried the preacher.
'He isn't,' said Kit indignantly.'How can you say such a thing?
And don't call me names if you please; what harm have I done? Ishouldn't have come to take 'em away, unless I was obliged, you may depend upon that.I wanted to do it very quiet, but you wouldn't let me.Now, you have the goodness to abuse Satan and them, as much as you like, Sir, and to let me alone if you please.'
So saying, Kit marched out of the chapel, followed by his mother and little Jacob, and found himself in the open air, with an indistinct recollection of having seen the people wake up and look surprised, and of Quilp having remained, throughout the interruption, in his old attitude, without moving his eyes from the ceiling, or appearing to take the smallest notice of anything that passed.
'Oh Kit!' said his mother, with her handkerchief to her eyes, 'what have you done! I never can go there again--never!'
'I'm glad of it, mother.What was there in the little bit of pleasure you took last night that made it necessary for you to be low-spirited and sorrowful tonight? That's the way you do.If you're happy or merry ever, you come here to say, along with that chap, that you're sorry for it.More shame for you, mother, I was going to say.'
'Hush, dear!' said Mrs Nubbles; 'you don't mean what you say Iknow, but you're talking sinfulness.'
