When at last he arrived outside John's door, two
stories up, he stood faltering with his hand upon the knocker, and
trembled from head to foot. For he was rendered very nervous by the
thought of having to relate what had fallen out between himself and
Pecksniff; and he had a misgiving that John would exult fearfully in the
disclosure.
'But it must be made,' thought Tom, 'sooner or later; and I had better
get it over.'
Rat tat.
'I am afraid that's not a London knock,' thought Tom. 'It didn't sound
bold. Perhaps that's the reason why nobody answers the door.'
It is quite certain that nobody came, and that Tom stood looking at the
knocker; wondering whereabouts in the neighbourhood a certain gentleman
resided, who was roaring out to somebody 'Come in!' with all his might.
'Bless my soul!' thought Tom at last. 'Perhaps he lives here, and is
calling to me. I never thought of that. Can I open the door from the
outside, I wonder. Yes, to be sure I can.'
To be sure he could, by turning the handle; and to be sure when he did
turn it the same voice came rushing out, crying 'Why don't you come
in? Come in, do you hear? What are you standing there for?'--quite
violently.
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