Works of Charles Dickens - Charles Dickens [2097]
Stretched on a crimson cushion in his gallant bark, with his shoes in the air, Mr Toots, in the exercise of his project, had come up the river, day after day, and week after week, and had flitted to and fro, near Sir Barnet's garden, and had caused his crew to cut across and across the river at sharp angles, for his better exhibition to any lookers-out from Sir Barnet's windows, and had had such evolutions performed by the Toots's Joy as had filled all the neighbouring part of the water-side with astonishment. But whenever he saw anyone in Sir Barnet's garden on the brink of the river, Mr Toots always feigned to be passing there, by a combination of coincidences of the most singular and unlikely description.
'How are you, Toots?' Sir Barnet would say, waving his hand from the lawn, while the artful Chicken steered close in shore.
'How de do, Sir Barnet?' Mr Toots would answer, What a surprising thing that I should see you here!'
Mr Toots, in his sagacity, always said this, as if, instead of that being Sir Barnet's house, it were some deserted edifice on the banks of the Nile, or Ganges.
'I never was so surprised!' Mr Toots would exclaim. - 'Is Miss Dombey there?'
Whereupon Florence would appear, perhaps.
'Oh, Diogenes is quite well, Miss Dombey,' Toots would cry. 'I called to ask this morning.'
'Thank you very much!' the pleasant voice of Florence would reply.
'Won't you come ashore, Toots?' Sir Barnet would say then. 'Come! you're in no hurry. Come and see us.'
'Oh, it's of no consequence, thank you!' Mr Toots would blushingly rejoin. 'I thought Miss Dombey might like to know, that's all. Good-bye!' And poor Mr Toots, who was dying to accept the invitation, but hadn't the courage to do it, signed to the Chicken, with an aching heart, and away went the Joy, cleaving the water like an arrow.
The Joy was lying in a state of extraordinary splendour, at the garden steps, on the morning of Florence's departure. When she went downstairs to take leave, after her talk with Susan, she found Mr Toots awaiting her in the drawing-room.
'Oh, how de do, Miss Dombey?' said the stricken Toots, always dreadfully disconcerted when the desire of his heart was gained, and he was speaking to her; 'thank you, I'm very well indeed, I hope you're the same, so was Diogenes yesterday.'
'You are very kind,' said Florence.
'Thank you, it's of no consequence,' retorted Mr Toots. 'I thought perhaps you wouldn't mind, in this fine weather, coming home by water, Miss Dombey. There's plenty of room in the boat for your maid.'
'I am very much obliged to you,' said Florence, hesitating. 'I really am - but I would rather not.'
'Oh, it's of no consequence,' retorted Mr Toots. 'Good morning.'
'Won't you wait and see Lady Skettles?' asked Florence, kindly.
'Oh no, thank you,' returned Mr Toots, 'it's of no consequence at all.'
So shy was Mr Toots on such occasions, and so flurried! But Lady Skettles entering at the moment, Mr Toots was suddenly seized with a passion for asking her how she did, and hoping she was very well; nor could Mr Toots by any possibility leave off shaking hands with her, until Sir Barnet appeared: to whom he immediately clung with the tenacity of desperation.
'We are losing, today, Toots,' said Sir Barnet, turning towards Florence, 'the light of our house, I assure you'
'Oh, it's of no conseq - I mean yes, to be sure,' faltered the embarrassed Mr Toots. 'Good morning!'
Notwithstanding the emphatic nature of