ect's. Tom Pinch, Mr. Pecksniff's assistant, had driven over
to Salisbury for the new pupil, and had already discoursed to Martin on
Mr. Pecksniff and his family (for Mr. Pecksniff had two
daughters--Mercy, and Charity), in whose good qualities he had a
profound and pathetic belief.

Festive preparations on a rather extensive scale were already completed
for Martin's benefit on the night of his arrival. There were two bottles
of currant wine, white and red; a dish of sandwiches, very long, and
very slim; another of apples; another of captain's biscuits; a plate of
oranges cut up small and gritty with powdered sugar; and a highly
geological home-made cake. The magnitude of these preparations quite
took away Tom Pinch's breath, for though the new pupils were usually let
down softly, particularly in the wine department, still this was a
banquet, a sort of lord mayor's feast in private life, a something to
think of, and hold on by afterwards.

To this entertainment Mr. Pecksniff besought the company to do full
justice.

"Martin," he said, addressing his daughters, "will seat himself between
you two, my dears, and Mr. Pinch will come by me. This is a mingling
that repays one for much disappointment and vexation. Let us be merry."
Here he took a captain's biscuit. "It is a poor heart that never
rejoices; and our hearts are not poor. No!"

The following morning Mr. Pecksniff announced that he must go to London.
"On professional business, my dear Martin; strictly on professional
business; and I promised my girls long ago that they should accompany
me. We shall go forth to-night by the heavy coach--like the dove of old,
my dear Martin--and it will be a week before we again deposit, our
olive-branches in the passage. When I say olive branches," observed Mr.
Pecksniff, in explanation, "I mean our unpretending luggage."

"And now let me see," said Mr. Pecksniff presently, "how can you best
employ yourself, Martin, while I am absent. Suppose you were to give me
your idea of a monument to a Lord Mayor of London, or a tomb for a
sheriff, or your notion of a cow-house to be erected in a nobleman's
park. A pump is a very chaste practice. I have found that a lamp-post is
calculated to refine the mind and give it a classical tendency. An
ornamental turnpike has a remarkable effect upon the imagination. What
do you say to beginning with an ornamental turnpike?"

"Whatever Mr. Pecksniff pleased," said Martin doubtfully.

"Stay," sai