ot without his grandfather's consent and approbation, my dear
sir?" cried Mr. Pecksniff. "Don't tell me that. For the honour of human
nature say you're not about to tell me that!"

"I thought he had suppressed it."

The indignation felt by Mr. Pecksniff at this terrible disclosure was
only to be equalled by the kindling anger of his daughters. What, had
they taken to their hearth and home a secretely contracted serpent?
Horrible!

Old Martin then went on to inquire when they would be returning home;
and, after relieving Mr. Pecksniff's unexpressed anxiety by mentioning
that Mary Graham, the young lady whom the old man had adopted, would
receive nothing at his death, announced that they might expect to see
him before long.

With a hasty farewell, the old man left the house, followed to the door
by Mr. Pecksniff and his daughters. A few days later the Pecksniffs set
out for home.

Tom Pinch and Martin were both out in the lane to meet the coach, but
Mr. Pecksniff pointedly ignored Martin's presence, even when the house
had been reached; and it was not till Martin sharply demanded an
explanation that he addressed him.

"You have deceived me," said Mr. Pecksniff. "You have imposed upon a
nature which you knew to be confiding and unsuspicious. This lowly roof,
sir, must not be contaminated by the presence of one who has, further,
deceived--and cruelly deceived--an honourable and venerable gentleman,
and who wisely suppressed that deceit from me when he sought my
protection. I weep for your depravity. I mourn over your corruption, but
I cannot have a leper and a serpent for an inmate! Go forth," said Mr.
Pecksniff, stretching out his hand, "go forth, young man! Like all who
know you, I renounce you!"

Martin made a stride forward at these words, and Mr. Pecksniff stepped
back so hastily that he missed his footing, tumbled over a chair, and
fell in a sitting posture on the ground, where he remained, perhaps
considering it the safest place.

"Look at him, Pinch," said Martin, "as he lies there--a cloth for dirty
hands, a mat for dirty feet, a lying, fawning, servile hound! And, mark
me, Pinch, the day will come when even you will find him out!"

He pointed at him as he spoke with unutterable contempt, and flinging
his hat upon his head, walked from the house. He went on so rapidly that
he was clear of the village before Tom Pinch overtook him.

"Are you going?" cried Tom.

"Yes," he answered sternly, "I am."

"W