ed the preacher.

'He isn't,' said Kit indignantly. 'How can you say such a thing? And
don't call me names if you please; what harm have I done? I shouldn't
have come to take 'em away, unless I was obliged, you may depend upon
that. I wanted to do it very quiet, but you wouldn't let me. Now, you
have the goodness to abuse Satan and them, as much as you like, Sir,
and to let me alone if you please.'

So saying, Kit marched out of the chapel, followed by his mother and
little Jacob, and found himself in the open air, with an indistinct
recollection of having seen the people wake up and look surprised, and
of Quilp having remained, throughout the interruption, in his old
attitude, without moving his eyes from the ceiling, or appearing to
take the smallest notice of anything that passed.

'Oh Kit!' said his mother, with her handkerchief to her eyes, 'what
have you done! I never can go there again--never!'

'I'm glad of it, mother. What was there in the little bit of pleasure
you took last night that made it necessary for you to be low-spirited
and sorrowful tonight? That's the way you do. If you're happy or
merry ever, you come here to say, along with that chap, that you're
sorry for it. More shame for you, mother, I was going to say.'

'Hush, dear!' said Mrs Nubbles; 'you don't mean what you say I know,
but you're talking sinfulness.'

'Don't mean it? But I do mean it!' retorted Kit. 'I don't believe,
mother, that harmless cheerfulness and good humour are thought greater
sins in Heaven than shirt-collars are, and I do believe that those
chaps are just about as right and sensible in putting down the one as
in leaving off the other--that's my belief. But I won't say anything
more about it, if you'll promise not to cry, that's all; and you take
the baby that's a lighter weight, and give me little Jacob; and as we
go along (which we must do pretty quick) I'll give you the news I
bring, which will surprise you a little, I can tell you. There--that's
right. Now you look as if you'd never seen Little Bethel in all your
life, as I hope you never will again; and here's the baby; and little
Jacob, you get atop of my back and catch hold of me tight round the
neck, and whenever a Little Bethel parson calls you a precious lamb or
says your brother's one, you tell him it's the truest things he's said
for a twelvemonth, and that if he'd got a little more of the lamb
himself, and less of the mint-sauce--not being quit