A silence ensued between the young people, which was not interrupted
until by the appearance of Mrs Phillips, who had seen Mr Small, and
had made an engagement for our hero to present himself at nine o'clock
on the following morning, after which communication our hero took his
leave. He amused himself during the remainder of that day in walking
over the town, which at that time presented a most bustling appearance,
as an expedition was fitting out; the streets were crowded with officers
of the army, navy, and marines, in their uniforms; soldiers and sailors,
more or less tipsy; flaunting ribbons and gaudy colours, and every
variety of noise was to be heard that could be well imagined, from the
quacking of a duck, with its head out of the basket in which it was
confined to be taken on board, to the martial music, the rolling of the
drums, and the occasional salutes of artillery, to let the world know
that some great man had put his foot on board of a ship, or had again
deigned to tread upon _terra firma_. All was bustle and excitement,
hurrying, jostling, cursing, and swearing; and Joey found himself, by
the manner in which he was shoved about right and left, to be in the way
of everybody.

At the time appointed our hero made his appearance at the door, and,
having given his name, was asked into the counting-house of the
establishment, where sat Mr Small and his factotum, Mr Sleek. It may
be as well here to describe the persons and peculiarities of these two
gentlemen.

Mr Small certainly did not accord with his name, for he was a man full
six feet high, and stout in proportion; he was in face extremely plain,
with a turned-up nose; but, at the same time, there was a lurking
good-humour in his countenance, and a twinkle in his eye, which
immediately prepossessed you, and in a few minutes you forgot that he
was not well-favoured. Mr Small was very fond of an argument and a
joke, and he had such a forcible way of maintaining his argument when he
happened to be near you, that, as Emma had told our hero, few people
after a time ventured to contradict him. This mode of argument was
nothing more than digging the hard knuckles of his large hand into the
ribs of his opponent--we should rather say gradually gimleting, as it
were, a hole in your side--as he heated in his illustrations. He was
the last person in the world in his disposition to inflict pain, even
upon an insect--and yet, from this habit, no one perhaps ga