`You're coming to the Dragon, Mr. Pinch?'
`No,' said Tom, `no. I shall walk to Salisbury to-night. I couldn't stay here. For goodness' sake, don't make me so unhappy, Mrs. Lupin.'
`But you'll come to the Dragon, Mr. Pinch. If it's only for tonight.
To see me, you know: not as a traveller.'
`God bless my soul!' said Tom, wiping his eyes. `The kindness of people is enough to break one's heart! I mean to go to Salisbury tonight, my dear good creature. If you'll take care of my box for me till I write for it, I shall consider it the greatest kindness you can do me.'
`I wish,' cried Mrs. Lupin, `there were twenty boxes, Mr. Pinch, that I might have 'em all.'
`Thank'ee,' said Tom. `It's like you. Good-bye. Good-bye.'
There were several people, young and old, standing about the door, some of whom cried with Mrs. Lupin; while others tried to keep up a stout heart, as Tom did; and others were absorbed in admiration of Mr. Pecksniff -- a man who could build a church, as one may say, by squinting at a sheet of paper: and others were divided between that feeling and sympathy with Tom. Mr. Pecksniff had appeared on the top of the steps, simultaneously with his old pupil, and while Tom was talking with Mrs. Lupin kept his hand stretched out, as though he said `Go forth!' When Tom went forth, and had turned the corner Mr. Pecksniff shook his head, shut his eyes, and heaving a deep sigh, shut the door. On which, the best of Tom's supporters said he must have done some dreadful deed, or such a man as Mr. Pecksniff never could have felt like that. If it had been a common quarrel (they observed), he would have said something, but when he didn't, Mr. Pinch must have shocked him dreadfully.
Tom was out of hearing of their shrewd opinions, and plodded on as steadily as he could go, until he came within sight of the turnpike where the tollman's family had cried out `Mr. Pinch!' that frosty morning when he went to meet young Martin. He had got through the village, and this toll-bar was his last trial; but when the infant toll-takers came screeching out, he had half a mind to run for it, and make a bolt across the country.
`Why deary Mr. Pinch! oh deary sir!' cried the tollman's wife. `What an unlikely time for you to be a-going this way with a bag!'
`I am going to Salisbury,' said Tom.
`Why, goodness, where's the gig, then?' cried the tollman's wife, looking down the road, as if she thought Tom might have been upset without observing it.
`I haven't got it,' said Tom. `I --' he couldn't evade it; he felt she would have him in the next question, if he got over this one. `I have left Mr. Pecksniff.'
The tollman -- a crusty customer, always smoking solitary pipes in a Windsor chair, inside, set artfully between two little windows that looked up and down the road, so that when he saw anything coming up he might hug himself on having toll to take, and when he saw it going down, might hug himself on having taken it -- the tollman was out in an instant.
`Left Mr. Pecksniff!' cried the tollman.
`Yes,' said Tom, `left him.'
