ut not in his counting-house. His Uncle and he lay under a great
obligation to Mr Dombey, which was of Walter's own soliciting. He might
have begun in secret to despair of ever winning that gentleman's favour,
and might have thought that he was now and then disposed to put a slight
upon him, which was hardly just. But what would have been duty without
that, was still duty with it--or Walter thought so--and duty must be
done.

When Mr Dombey had looked at him, and told him he was young, and that
his Uncle's circumstances were not good, there had been an expression of
disdain in his face; a contemptuous and disparaging assumption that he
would be quite content to live idly on a reduced old man, which stung
the boy's generous soul. Determined to assure Mr Dombey, in so far as it
was possible to give him the assurance without expressing it in words,
that indeed he mistook his nature, Walter had been anxious to show even
more cheerfulness and activity after the West Indian interview than he
had shown before: if that were possible, in one of his quick and zealous
disposition. He was too young and inexperienced to think, that possibly
this very quality in him was not agreeable to Mr Dombey, and that it
was no stepping-stone to his good opinion to be elastic and hopeful of
pleasing under the shadow of his powerful displeasure, whether it were
right or wrong. But it may have been--it may have been--that the great
man thought himself defied in this new exposition of an honest spirit,
and purposed to bring it down.

'Well! at last and at least, Uncle Sol must be told,' thought Walter,
with a sigh. And as Walter was apprehensive that his voice might perhaps
quaver a little, and that his countenance might not be quite as hopeful
as he could wish it to be, if he told the old man himself, and saw the
first effects of his communication on his wrinkled face, he resolved to
avail himself of the services of that powerful mediator, Captain Cuttle.
Sunday coming round, he set off therefore, after breakfast, once more to
beat up Captain Cuttle's quarters.

It was not unpleasant to remember, on the way thither, that Mrs
MacStinger resorted to a great distance every Sunday morning, to attend
the ministry of the Reverend Melchisedech Howler, who, having been one
day discharged from the West India Docks on a false suspicion (got up
expressly against him by the general enemy) of screwing gimlets into
puncheons, and applying his lips to the orif