ing.' He
stood dingily smiling, and breathing hard at them, with a most curious
air; as if, instead of being his proprietor's grubber, he were the
triumphant proprietor of the Marshalsea, the Marshal, all the turnkeys,
and all the Collegians. In his great self-satisfaction he put his cigar
to his lips (being evidently no smoker), and took such a pull at it,
with his right eye shut up tight for the purpose, that he underwent
a convulsion of shuddering and choking. But even in the midst of that
paroxysm, he still essayed to repeat his favourite introduction of
himself, 'Pa-ancks the gi-ipsy, fortune-telling.'

'I am spending the evening with the rest of 'em,' said Pancks. 'I've
been singing. I've been taking a part in White sand and grey sand.
I don't know anything about it. Never mind. I'll take any part in
anything. It's all the same, if you're loud enough.'

At first Clennam supposed him to be intoxicated. But he soon perceived
that though he might be a little the worse (or better) for ale, the
staple of his excitement was not brewed from malt, or distilled from any
grain or berry.

'How d'ye do, Miss Dorrit?' said Pancks. 'I thought you wouldn't mind my
running round, and looking in for a moment. Mr Clennam I heard was here,
from Mr Dorrit. How are you, Sir?'

Clennam thanked him, and said he was glad to see him so gay.

'Gay!' said Pancks. 'I'm in wonderful feather, sir. I can't stop a
minute, or I shall be missed, and I don't want 'em to miss me.--Eh, Miss
Dorrit?'

He seemed to have an insatiate delight in appealing to her and looking
at her; excitedly sticking his hair up at the same moment, like a dark
species of cockatoo.

'I haven't been here half an hour. I knew Mr Dorrit was in the chair,
and I said, "I'll go and support him!" I ought to be down in Bleeding
Heart Yard by rights; but I can worry them to-morrow.--Eh, Miss Dorrit?'

His little black eyes sparkled electrically. His very hair seemed to
sparkle as he roughened it. He was in that highly-charged state that one
might have expected to draw sparks and snaps from him by presenting a
knuckle to any part of his figure.

'Capital company here,' said Pancks.--'Eh, Miss Dorrit?'

She was half afraid of him, and irresolute what to say. He laughed, with
a nod towards Clennam.

'Don't mind him, Miss Dorrit. He's one of us. We agreed that you
shouldn't take on to mind me before people, but we didn't mean Mr
Clennam. He's one of us. He's in it. An'