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when I was just beginning to arrange and comprehend the
occurrences of the night； and really to believe that they were not a
dream。 Leaving the carriage at the posting…house； and ordering
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fresh horses to be ready； my companion gave me his arm； and we
went towards home。
“As this is your regular abode； Miss Summerson； you see；” he
observed； “I should like to know whether you’ve been asked for by
any stranger answering the description； or whether Mr Jarndyce
has。 I don’t much expect it； but it might be。”
As we ascended the hill； he looked about him with a sharp
eye—the day was now breaking—and reminded me that I had
come down it one night； as I had reason for remembering； with my
little servant and poor Jo： whom he called Toughey。
I wondered how he knew that。
“When you passed a man upon the road； just yonder； you
know；” said Mr Bucket。
Yes； I remembered that too； very well。
“That was me；” said Mr Bucket。
Seeing my surprise； he went on：—
“I drove down in a gig that afternoon； to look after that boy。
You might have heard my wheels when you came out to look after
him yourself； for I was aware of you and your little maid going up；
when I was walking the horse down。 Making an inquiry or two
about him in the town； I soon heard what company he was in； and
was coming among the brick…fields to look for him； when I
observed you bringing him home here。”
“Had he committed any crime？” I asked。
“None was charged against him；” said Mr Bucket； coolly lifting
off his hat； “but I suppose he wasn’t over particular。 No。 What I
wanted him for； was in connection with keeping this very matter
of Lady Dedlock quiet。 He had been making his tongue more free
than welcome； as to a small accidental service he had been paid
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for by the deceased Mr Tulkinghorn； and it wouldn’t do at any sort
of price； to have him playing those games。 So having warned him
out of London； I made an afternoon of it to warn him to keep out
of it now he was away； and go farther from it； and maintain a
bright look out that I didn’t catch him coming back again。”
“Poor creature！” said I。
“Poor enough；” assented Mr Bucket； “and trouble enough； and
well enough away from London； or anywhere else。 I was regularly
turned on my back when I found him taken up by your
establishment； I do assure you。”
I asked him why？ “Why； my dear？” said Mr Bucket。 “Naturally
there was no end to his tongue then。 He might as well have been
born with a yard and a half of it； and a remnant over。”
Although I remember this conversation now； my head was in
confusion at the time； and my power of attention hardly did more
than enable me to understand that he entered into these
particulars to divert me。 With the same kind intention； manifestly；
he often spoke to me of indifferent things； while his face was busy
with the one object that he had in view。 He still pursued this
subject as we turned in at the garden gate。
“Ah！” said Mr Bucket。 “Here we are； and a nice retired place it
is。 Puts a man in mind of the country house in the Woodpecker
tapping； that was known by the smoke which so gracefully curled。
They’re early with the kitchen fire； and that denotes good
servants。 But what you’ve always got to be careful of with
servants； is； who comes to see ’em； you never know what they’re
up to； if you don’t know that。 And another thing； my dear。
Whenever you find a young man behind the kitchen door； you give
that young man in charge on suspicion of being secreted in a
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dwelling…house with an unlawful purpose。”
We were now in front of the house； he looked attentively and
closely at the gravel for footprints； before he raised his eyes to the
windows。
“Do you generally put that elderly young gentleman in the
same room； when he’s on a visit here； Miss Summerson？” he
inquired； glancing at Mr Skimpole’s usual chamber。
“You know Mr Skimpole！” said I。
“What do you call him again？” returned Mr Bucket； bending
down his ear。 “Skimpole； is it？ I’ve often wondered what his name
might be。 Skimpole。 Not John； I should say； nor yet Jacob？”
“Harold；” I told him。
“Harold。 Yes。 He’s a queer bird is Harold；”—said Mr Bucket；
eyeing me with great expression。
“He is a singular character；” said I。
“No idea of money；” observed Mr Bucket。—“He takes it
though！”
I involuntarily returned for answer； that I perceived Mr Bucket
knew him。
“Why； now I’ll tell you； Miss Summerson；” he rejoined。 “Your
mind will be all the better for not running on one point too
continually； and I’ll tell you for a change。 It was him as pointed out
to me where Toughey was。 I made up my mind； that night； to come
to the door and ask for Toughey； if that was all； but； willing to try a
move or so first if any such was on the board； I just pitched up a
morsel of gravel at that window where I saw a shadow。 As soon as
Harold opens it and I have had a look at him； thinks I； you’re the
man for me。 So I smoothed him down a bit； about not wanting to
disturb the family after they was gone to bed； and about it’s being
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a thing to be regretted that charitable young ladies should harbour
vagrants； and then； when I pretty well understood his ways； I said；
I should consider a fypunnote well bestowed if I could relieve the
premises of Toughey without causing any noise or trouble。 Then
says he； lifting up his eyebrows in the gayest way； ‘it’s no use
mentioning a fypunnote to me； my friend； because I’m a mere
child in such matters； and have no idea of money。’ Of course I
understood what his taking it so easy meant； and being now quite
sure he was the man for me； I wrapped the note round a little
stone and threw it up to him。 Well！ He laughs and beams； and
looks as innocent as you like； and says； ‘But I don’t know the value
of these things。 What am I to do with this？’ ‘Spend it； sir；’ says I。
‘But I shall be taken in；’ he says； ‘they won’t give me the right
change； I shall lose it； it’s no use to me。’ Lord you never saw such a
face as he carried it with！ Of course he told me where to find
Toughey； and I found him。”
I regarded this as very treacherous on the part of Mr Skimpole；
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