_IV.--The Downfall of Pecksniff_

Old Martin Chuzzlewit had for some time taken up his residence at Mr.
Pecksniff's, and Martin and Mark Tapley went to the Blue Dragon on their
return.

Martin at once sought out his grandfather, and marched into the house
resolved on reconciliation. The old man listened to his appeal in
silence; but Mr. Pecksniff spoke for him, and bade the young man begone.

But old Martin was awake to Pecksniff's character, and resolved to set
Mr. Pecksniff right, and Mr. Pecksniff's victims, too.

Mark Tapley was the first person old Martin invited to see him. The old
man had gone to London, and his grandson, Mary Graham, and Tom Pinch
were all summoned to wait on him at a certain hour.

From Mark, old Martin learnt that his grandson was an altered man.

"There was always a deal of good in him," said Mr. Tapley, "but a little
of it got crusted over somehow. I can't say who rolled the paste of that
'ere paste, but--well, I think it may have been you, sir."

"So you think," said Martin, "that his old faults are in some degree of
my creation?"

"Well, sir, I'm very sorry, but I can't unsay it. I don't believe that
neither of you ever gave the other a fair chance."

Presently came a knock at the door, and young Martin entered. The old
man pointed to a distant chair. Then came Tom Pinch and his sister,
Ruth; and Mary Graham; and Mrs. Lupin, the landlady of the Blue Dragon;
and John Westlock, an old friend of Tom Pinch's.

"Set the door open, Mark!" said Mr. Chuzzlewit.

The last appointed footstep sounded now upon the stairs. They all knew
it. It was Mr. Pecksniff's; and Mr. Pecksniff was in a hurry, too, for
he came bounding up with such uncommon expedition that he stumbled once
or twice.

"Where is my venerable friend?" he cried upon the upper landing. And
then, darting in and catching sight of old Martin, "My venerable friend
is well?"

Mr. Pecksniff looked round upon the assembled group, and shook his head
reproachfully.

"Oh, vermin!" said Mr. Pecksniff. "Oh bloodsuckers! Horde of unnatural
plunderers and robbers! Leave him! Leave him, I say! Begone! Abscond!
You had better be off! Wander over the face of the earth, young sirs,
and do not presume to remain in a spot which is hallowed by the grey
hairs of the patriarchal gentleman to whose tottering limbs I have the
honour to act as an unworthy, but I hope an unassuming, prop and staff."

He advanced, with outstretched arms, to tak