I
suppose.'

'I--I--don't think it was his knock, Tom,' observed his little sister.

'No?' said Tom. 'It surely can't be my employer suddenly arrived in
town; directed here by Mr Fips; and come for the key of the office. It's
somebody inquiring for me, I declare! Come in, if you please!'

But when the person came in, Tom Pinch, instead of saying, 'Did you
wish to speak with me, sir?' or, 'My name is Pinch, sir; what is your
business, may I ask?' or addressing him in any such distant terms; cried
out, 'Good gracious Heaven!' and seized him by both hands, with the
liveliest manifestations of astonishment and pleasure.

The visitor was not less moved than Tom himself, and they shook hands a
great many times, without another word being spoken on either side. Tom
was the first to find his voice.

'Mark Tapley, too!' said Tom, running towards the door, and shaking
hands with somebody else. 'My dear Mark, come in. How are you, Mark? He
don't look a day older than he used to do at the Dragon. How ARE you,
Mark?'

'Uncommonly jolly, sir, thank'ee,' returned Mr Tapley, all smiles and
bows. 'I hope I see you well, sir.'

'Good gracious me!' cried Tom, patting him tenderly on the back. 'How
delightful it is to hear his old voice again! My dear Martin, sit down.
My sister, Martin. Mr Chuzzlewit, my love. Mark Tapley from the Dragon,
my dear. Good gracious me, what a surprise this is! Sit down. Lord,
bless me!'

Tom was in such a state of excitement that he couldn't keep himself
still for a moment, but was constantly running between Mark and Martin,
shaking hands with them alternately, and presenting them over and over
again to his sister.

'I remember the day we parted, Martin, as well as if it were yesterday,'
said Tom. 'What a day it was! and what a passion you were in! And don't
you remember my overtaking you in the road that morning, Mark, when I
was going to Salisbury in the gig to fetch him, and you were looking out
for a situation? And don't you recollect the dinner we had at Salisbury,
Martin, with John Westlock, eh! Good gracious me! Ruth, my dear,
Mr Chuzzlewit. Mark Tapley, my love, from the Dragon. More cups and
saucers, if you please. Bless my soul, how glad I am to see you both!'

And then Tom (as John Westlock had done on his arrival) ran off to the
loaf to cut some bread and butter for them; and before he had spread a
single slice, remembered something else, and came running back again to
tell it; and t