"Pip, how ARE you, Pip?"

With his good honest face all glowing and
shining, and his hat put down on the floor
between us, he caught both my hands and worked
them straight up and down, as if I had been the
last-patented Pump.

"I am glad to see you. Joe. Give me your
hat."

But Joe, taking it up carefully with both
hands, like a bird's-nest with eggs in it, wouldn't
hear of parting with that piece of property, and
persisted in standing talking over it in a most
uncomfortable way.

"Which you have that growed," said Joe,
"and that swelled, and that gentlefolked;" Joe
considered a little before he discovered this
word; "as to be sure you are a honour to your
king and country."

"And you, Joe, look wonderfully well."

"Thank God," said Joe, " I'm ekerval to
most. And your sister, she's no worse than she
were. And Biddy, she's ever right and ready.
And all friends is no backerder, if not no
forarder. 'Ceptin' Wopsle; he's had a drop."

All this time (still with both hands taking
great care of the bird's-nest), Joe was rolling
his eyes round and round the room, and round
and round the flowered pattern of my dressing-
gown.

"Had a drop, Joe?"

"Why yes," said Joe, lowering his voice,
"he's left the Church, and went into the
playacting. Which the playacting have likeways
brought him to London along with me. And
his wish were," said Joe, getting the bird's-nest
under his left arm for the moment and groping
in it for an egg with his right; "if no offence,
as I would 'and you that."

I took what Joe gave me, and found it to be
the crumpled playbill of a small metropolitan
theatre, announcing the first appearance in that
very week of "the celebrated Provincial
Amateur of Roscian renown, whose unique
performance in the highest tragic walk of our
National Bard has lately occasioned so great a
sensation in local dramatic circles."

"Were you at his performance, Joe?" I
inquired.

"I were" said Joe, with emphasis and
solemnity.

"Was there a great sensation?"

"Why," said Joe, " yes, there certainly were
a peck of orange-peel. Partickler, when he see
the ghost. Though I put it to yourself, sir,
whether it were calc'lated to keep a man up to
his work with a good hart, to be continiwally
cutting in betwixt him and the Ghost with 'Amen!'
A man may have had a misfortun' and been in
the Church," said Joe, lowering his voice to an
argumentative and feeling tone, "but that is no
reason why you should put him out at such a
time. Which I meantersay, if the ghost of a
man's own father cannot be allowed to claim
his attention, what can, Sir? Still more, when
his mourning 'at is unfortunately made so small
as that the weight of the black feathers brings
it off, try to keep it on how you may."

A ghost-seeing effect in Joe's own countenance
informed me that Herbert had entered the
room. So I presented Joe to Herbert, who held
out his hand; but Joe backed from it, and held
on by the bird's-nest.

"Your servant, Sir," said Joe, "which I
hope as you and Pip"—here his eye fell on
the Avenger, who was putting some toast on
table, and so plainly denoted an intention to
make that young gentleman one of the family,
that I frowned it down and confused him more
—"I meantersay, you two gentlemen—which
I hope as you get your elths in this close
spot? For the present may be a werry good
inn, according to London opinions," said Joe,
confidentially, "and I believe its character do
stand it; but I wouldn't keep a pig in it myself
—not in the case that I wished him to fatten
wholesome and to eat with a meller flavour on
him."

Having borne this flattering testimony to the
merits of our dwelling-place, and having
incidentally shown this tendency to call me "sir,"
Joe, being invited to sit down to table, looked
all round the room for a suitable spot on which
to deposit his hat—as if it were only on some
very few rare substances in nature that it could
find a resting-place—and ultimately stood it
on an extreme corner of the chimney-piece,
from which it ever afterwards fell off at
intervals.

"Do you take tea, or coffee, Mr. Gargery?"
asked Herbert, who always presided of a
morning.

"Thankee, Sir," said Joe, stiff from head to
foot, "I'll take whichever is most agreeable to
yourself."

"What do you say to coffee?"

"Thankee, Sir," returned Joe, evidently
dispirited by the proposal, "since you are so
kind as make chice of coffee, I will not run
contrairy to your own opinions. But don't you
never find it a little 'eating?"

"Say tea then," said Herbert, pouring it
out.

Here Joe's hat tumbled off the mantelpiece,
and he started out of his chair and picked it up,
and fitted it to the same exact spot. As if it
were an absolute point of good breeding that it
should tumble off again soon.

"When did you come to town, Mr. Gargery?"

"Were it yesterday afternoon?" said Joe,
after coughing behind his hand, as if he had had
time to catch the whooping-cough since he
came. "No it were not. Yes it were. Yes.
It were yesterday afternoon" (with an appearance
of mingled wisdom, relief, and strict
impartiality).

"Have you seen anything of London,
yet?"

"Why, yes, Sir," said Joe, "me and Wopsle
went off straight to look at the Blacking
Ware'us. But we didn't find that it come up
to its likeness in the red bills at the shop
doors; which I meantersay," added Joe, in
an explanatory manner, "as it is there drawd
too architectooralooral."