an who would venture to put himself in opposition to me.
Besides, confound it, Tom, you could be useful to me in a hundred ways.'

'If I were not useful in one or two, it shouldn't be for want of
trying,' said Tom.

'For instance,' pursued Martin, after a short reflection, 'you'd be a
capital fellow, now, to see that my ideas were properly carried out; and
to overlook the works in their progress before they were sufficiently
advanced to be very interesting to ME; and to take all that sort of
plain sailing. Then you'd be a splendid fellow to show people over my
studio, and to talk about Art to 'em, when I couldn't be bored myself,
and all that kind of thing. For it would be devilish creditable, Tom
(I'm quite in earnest, I give you my word), to have a man of your
information about one, instead of some ordinary blockhead. Oh, I'd take
care of you. You'd be useful, rely upon it!'

To say that Tom had no idea of playing first fiddle in any social
orchestra, but was always quite satisfied to be set down for the hundred
and fiftieth violin in the band, or thereabouts, is to express his
modesty in very inadequate terms. He was much delighted, therefore, by
these observations.

'I should be married to her then, Tom, of course,' said Martin.

What was that which checked Tom Pinch so suddenly, in the high flow
of his gladness; bringing the blood into his honest cheeks, and a
remorseful feeling to his honest heart, as if he were unworthy of his
friend's regard?

'I should be married to her then,' said Martin, looking with a smile
towards the light; 'and we should have, I hope, children about us.
They'd be very fond of you, Tom.'

But not a word said Mr Pinch. The words he would have uttered died upon
his lips, and found a life more spiritual in self-denying thoughts.

'All the children hereabouts are fond of you, Tom, and mine would be,
of course,' pursued Martin. 'Perhaps I might name one of 'em after
you. Tom, eh? Well, I don't know. Tom's not a bad name. Thomas Pinch
Chuzzlewit. T. P. C. on his pinafores--no objection to that, I should
say?'

Tom cleared his throat, and smiled.

'SHE would like you, Tom, I know,' said Martin.

'Aye!' cried Tom Pinch, faintly.

'I can tell exactly what she would think of you,' said Martin leaning
his chin upon his hand, and looking through the window-glass as if he
read there what he said; 'I know her so well. She would smile, Tom,
often at first when you spoke to her, or when she