But you have been a good angel to me; filling me with gratitude
of heart, hope, and courage.'
'I am as little like an angel, I am afraid,' replied Tom, shaking his
head, 'as any stone cherubim among the grave-stones; and I don't think
there are many real angels of THAT pattern. But I should like to know
(if you will tell me) why you have been so very silent about Martin.'
'Because I have been afraid,' said Mary, 'of injuring you.'
'Of injuring me!' cried Tom.
'Of doing you an injury with your employer.'
The gentleman in question dived.
'With Pecksniff!' rejoined Tom, with cheerful confidence. 'Oh dear, he'd
never think of us! He's the best of men. The more at ease you were, the
happier he would be. Oh dear, you needn't be afraid of Pecksniff. He is
not a spy.'
Many a man in Mr Pecksniff's place, if he could have dived through the
floor of the pew of state and come out at Calcutta or any inhabited
region on the other side of the earth, would have done it instantly. Mr
Pecksniff sat down upon a hassock, and listening more attentively than
ever, smiled.
Mary seemed to have expressed some dissent in the meanwhile, for Tom
went on to say, with honest energy:
'Well, I don't know how it is, but it always happens, whenever I express
myself in this way to anybody almost, that I find they won't do justice
to Pecksniff.
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