'Oh, Quilp!' cried his poor little wife, looking up. 'How you
frightened me!'

'I meant to, you jade,' returned the dwarf. 'What do you want here?
I'm dead, an't I?'

'Oh, please come home, do come home,' said Mrs Quilp, sobbing; 'we'll
never do so any more, Quilp, and after all it was only a mistake that
grew out of our anxiety.'

'Out of your anxiety,' grinned the dwarf. 'Yes, I know that--out of
your anxiety for my death. I shall come home when I please, I tell
you. I shall come home when I please, and go when I please. I'll be a
Will o' the Wisp, now here, now there, dancing about you always,
starting up when you least expect me, and keeping you in a constant
state of restlessness and irritation. Will you begone?'

Mrs Quilp durst only make a gesture of entreaty.

'I tell you no,' cried the dwarf. 'No. If you dare to come here again
unless you're sent for, I'll keep watch-dogs in the yard that'll growl
and bite--I'll have man-traps, cunningly altered and improved for
catching women--I'll have spring guns, that shall explode when you
tread upon the wires, and blow you into little pieces. Will you
begone?'

'Do forgive me. Do come back,' said his wife, earnestly.

'No-o-o-o-o!' roared Quilp. 'Not till my own good time, and then I'll
return again as often as I choose, and be accountable to nobody for my
goings or comings. You see the door there. Will you go?'

Mr Quilp delivered this last command in such a very energetic voice,
and moreover accompanied it with such a sudden gesture, indicative of
an intention to spring out of his hammock, and, night-capped as he was,
bear his wife home again through the public streets, that she sped away
like an arrow. Her worthy lord stretched his neck and eyes until she
had crossed the yard, and then, not at all sorry to have had this
opportunity of carrying his point, and asserting the sanctity of his
castle, fell into an immoderate fit of laughter, and laid himself down
to sleep again.

CHAPTER 51

The bland and open-hearted proprietor of Bachelor's Hall slept on
amidst the congenial accompaniments of rain, mud, dirt, damp, fog, and
rats, until late in the day; when, summoning his valet Tom Scott to
assist him to rise, and to prepare breakfast, he quitted his couch, and
made his toilet. This duty performed, and his repast ended, he again
betook himself to Bevis Marks.

This visit was not intended for Mr Swiveller, but for his friend and
emplo