ooking gentleman with him--in the best room now,'
whispered Mrs Lupin, glancing up at the window as they went into the
house. 'He has ordered everything that can be got for dinner; and has
the glossiest moustaches and whiskers ever you saw.'

'Has he?' cried Martin, 'why then we'll endeavour to avoid him too, in
the hope that our self-denial may be strong enough for the sacrifice.
It is only for a few hours,' said Martin, dropping wearily into a chair
behind the little screen in the bar. 'Our visit has met with no success,
my dear Mrs Lupin, and I must go to London.'

'Dear, dear!' cried the hostess.

'Yes, one foul wind no more makes a winter, than one swallow makes a
summer. I'll try it again. Tom Pinch has succeeded. With his advice to
guide me, I may do the same. I took Tom under my protection once, God
save the mark!' said Martin, with a melancholy smile; 'and promised I
would make his fortune. Perhaps Tom will take me under HIS protection
now, and teach me how to earn my bread.'

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

FURTHER CONTINUATION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR JONAS AND HIS FRIEND

It was a special quality, among the many admirable qualities possessed
by Mr Pecksniff, that the more he was found out, the more hypocrisy he
practised. Let him be discomfited in one quarter, and he refreshed and
recompensed himself by carrying the war into another. If his workings
and windings were detected by A, so much the greater reason was there
for practicing without loss of time on B, if it were only to keep his
hand in. He had never been such a saintly and improving spectacle to all
about him, as after his detection by Thomas Pinch. He had scarcely ever
been at once so tender in his humanity, and so dignified and exalted in
his virtue, as when young Martin's scorn was fresh and hot upon him.

Having this large stock of superfluous sentiment and morality on hand
which must positively be cleared off at any sacrifice, Mr Pecksniff no
sooner heard his son-in-law announced, than he regarded him as a kind
of wholesale or general order, to be immediately executed. Descending,
therefore, swiftly to the parlour, and clasping the young man in
his arms, he exclaimed, with looks and gestures that denoted the
perturbation of his spirit:

'Jonas. My child--she is well! There is nothing the matter?'

'What, you're at it again, are you?' replied his son-in-law. 'Even with
me? Get away with you, will you?'

'Tell me she is well then,' said Mr Pe