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head； and tomorrow night that boy will be here； and tomorrow
night Mrs Snagsby will have her eye upon him and upon some one
else； and O you may walk a long while in your secret ways （says
Mrs Snagsby； with haughtiness and scorn）； but you can’t blind
ME！
Mrs Snagsby sounds no timbrel in anybody’s ears； but holds
her purpose quietly； and keeps her counsel。 Tomorrow comes； the
savoury preparations for the Oil Trade come； the evening comes。
Comes； Mr Snagsby in his black coat； come； the Chadbands； come
（when the gorging vessel is replete）； the ’prentices and Guster； to
be edified； comes； at last； with his slouching head； and his shuffle
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backward； and his shuffle forward； and his shuffle to the right； and
his shuffle to the left； and his bit of fur cap in his muddy hand；
which he picks as if it were some mangy bird he had caught； and
was plucking before eating raw； Jo； the very； very tough subject
Mr Chadband is to improve。
Mrs Snagsby screws a watchful glance on Jo； as he is brought
into the little drawing…room by Guster。 He looks at Mr Snagsby the
moment he comes in。 Aha！ Why does he look at Mr Snagsby？ Mr
Snagsby looks at him。 Why should he do that； but that Mrs
Snagsby sees it all？ Why else should that look pass between them；
why else should Mr Snagsby be confused； and cough a signal
cough behind his hand？ It is as clear as crystal that Mr Snagsby is
that boy’s father。
“Peace； my friends；” says Chadband； rising and wiping the oily
exudations from his reverend visage。 “Peace be with us！ My
friends； why with us？ Because；” with his fat smile； “it cannot be
against us； because it must be for us； because it is not hardening；
because it is softening； because it does not make war like the
hawk； but comes home untoe us like the dove。 Therefore； my
friends； peace be with us！ My human boy； come forward！”
Stretching forth his flabby paw； Mr Chadband lays the same on
Jo’s arm； and considers where to station him。 Jo； very doubtful of
his reverend friend’s intentions； and not at all clear but that
something practical and painful is going to be done to him；
mutters； “You let me alone。 I never said nothink to you。 You let me
alone。”
“No； my young friend；” says Chadband； smoothly； “I will not let
you alone。 And why？ Because I am a harvest…labourer； because I
am a toiler and a moiler； because you are delivered over untoe me；
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and are become as a precious instrument in my hands。 My friends；
may I so employ this instrument as to use it toe your advantage；
toe your profit； toe your gain； toe your welfare； toe your
enrichment！ My young friend； sit upon this stool。”
Jo； apparently possessed by an impression that the reverend
gentleman wants to cut his hair； shields his head with both arms；
and is got into the required position with great difficulty； and
every possible manifestation of reluctance。
When he is at last adjusted like a lay…figure； Mr Chadband；
retiring behind the table； holds up his bear’s…paw； and says； “My
friends！” This is the signal for a general settlement of the
audience。 The ’prentices giggle internally； and nudge each other。
Guster falls into a staring and vacant state； compounded of a
stunned admiration of Mr Chadband and pity for the friendless
outcast whose condition touches her nearly。 Mrs Snagsby silently
lays trains of gunpowder。 Mrs Chadband composes herself grimly
by the fire； and warms her knees： finding that sensation
favourable to the reception of eloquence。
It happens that Mr Chadband has a pulpit habit of fixing some
member of his congregation with his eye； and fatly arguing his
points with that particular person； who is understood to be
expected to be moved to an occasional grunt； groan； gasp； or other
audible expression of inward working； which expression of inward
working； being echoed by some elderly lady in the next pew； and
so communicated； like a game of forfeits； through a circle of the
more fermentable sinners present； serves the purpose of
parliamentary cheering； and gets Mr Chadband’s steam up。 From
mere force of habit； Mr Chadband in saying “my friends！” has
rested his eye on Mr Snagsby； and proceeds to make that ill…
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starred stationer； already sufficiently confused； the immediate
recipient of his discourse。
“We have here among us； my friends；” says Chadband； “a
Gentile and a Heathen； a dweller in the tents of Tom…all…Alone’s；
and a mover…on upon the surface of the earth。 We have here
among us； my friends；” and Mr Chadband； untwisting the point
with his dirty thumbnail； bestows an oily smile on Mr Snagsby；
signifying that he will throw him an argumentative back—fall
presently if he be not already down； “a brother and a boy。 Devoid
of parents； devoid of relations； devoid of flocks and herds； devoid
of gold and silver； and of precious stones。 Now； my friends； why do
I say he is devoid of these possessions？ Why？ Why is he？” Mr
Chadband states the question as if he were propounding an
entirely new riddle； of much ingenuity and merit； to Mr Snagsby；
and entreating him not to give it up。 Mr Snagsby； greatly
perplexed by the mysterious look he received just now from his
little woman—at about the period when Mr Chadband mentioned
the word parents—is tempted into modestly remarking； “I don’t
know； I’m sure； sir。” On which interruption； Mrs Chadband glares；
and Mrs Snagsby says； “For shame！”
“I hear a voice；” says Chadband； “is it a still small voice； my
friends？ I fear not； though I fain would hope so—”
（“Ah…h！” from Mrs Snagsby。）
“Which says； I don’t know。 Then I will tell you why。 I say this
brother； present here among us； is devoid of parents； devoid of
relations； devoid of flocks and herds； devoid of gold； of silver； and
of precious stones； because he is devoid of the light that shines in
upon some of us。 What is that light？ What is it？ I ask you what is
that light？”
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Mr Chadband draws back his head and pauses； but Mr Snagsby
is not to be lured on to his destruction again。 Mr Chadband；
leaning forward over the table； pierces what he has got to follow；
directly int