While these affairs were in abeyance, our visit to Mr. Boythorn's was postponed.
At length, Richard having taken possession of his lodging, there was nothing to prevent our departure.
He could have gone with us at that time of the year very well, but he was in the full novelty of his new position and was making most energetic attempts to unravel the mysteries of the fatal suit.
Consequently we went without him, and my darling was delighted to praise him for being so busy.
We made a pleasant journey down into Lincolnshire by the coach and had an entertaining companion in Mr. Skimpole.
His furniture had been all cleared off, it appeared, by the person who took possession of it on his blue-eyed daughter's birthday, but he seemed quite relieved to think that it was gone.
Chairs and table, he said, were wearisome objects; they were monotonous ideas, they had no variety of expression, they looked you out of countenance, and you looked them out of countenance.
How pleasant, then, to be bound to no particular chairs and tables, but to sport like a butterfly among all the furniture on hire, and to flit from rosewood to mahogany, and from mahogany to walnut, and from this shape to that, as the humour took one!
"The oddity of the thing is," said Mr. Skimpole with a quickened sense of the ludicrous, "that my chairs and tables were not paid for, and yet my landlord walks off with them as composedly as possible.
Now, that seems droll!
There is something grotesque in it.
The chair and table merchant never engaged to pay my landlord my rent.
Why should my landlord quarrel with HIM?
If I have a pimple on my nose which is disagreeable to my landlord's peculiar ideas of beauty, my landlord has no business to scratch my chair and table merchant's nose, which has no pimple on it.
His reasoning seems defective!"
"Well," said my guardian good-humouredly, "it's pretty clear that whoever became security for those chairs and tables will have to pay for them."
"Exactly!" returned Mr. Skimpole.
"That's the crowning point of unreason in the business!
I said to my landlord,
'My good man, you are not aware that my excellent friend Jarndyce will have to pay for those things that you are sweeping off in that indelicate manner.
Have you no consideration for HIS property?'
He hadn't the least."
"And refused all proposals," said my guardian.
"Refused all proposals," returned Mr. Skimpole.
"I made him business proposals.
I had him into my room.
I said,
'You are a man of business, I believe?'
He replied,
'I am,'
'Very well,' said I, 'now let us be business-like.
Here is an inkstand, here are pens and paper, here are wafers.
What do you want?
I have occupied your house for a considerable period, I believe to our mutual satisfaction until this unpleasant misunderstanding arose; let us be at once friendly and business-like.
What do you want?'
In reply to this, he made use of the figurative expression--which has something Eastern about it--that he had never seen the colour of my money.
'My amiable friend,' said I, 'I never have any money.
I never know anything about money.'
'Well, sir,' said he, 'what do you offer if I give you time?'
'My good fellow,' said I, 'I have no idea of time; but you say you are a man of business, and whatever you can suggest to be done in a business-like way with pen, and ink, and paper--and wafers--I am ready to do.
Don't pay yourself at another man's expense (which is foolish), but be business-like!'
However, he wouldn't be, and there was an end of it."
If these were some of the inconveniences of Mr. Skimpole's childhood, it assuredly possessed its advantages too.
On the journey he had a very good appetite for such refreshment as came in our way (including a basket of choice hothouse peaches), but never thought of paying for anything.
So when the coachman came round for his fee, he pleasantly asked him what he considered a very good fee indeed, now--a liberal one--and on his replying half a crown for a single passenger, said it was little enough too, all things considered, and left Mr. Jarndyce to give it him.
It was delightful weather.
The green corn waved so beautifully, the larks sang so joyfully, the hedges were so full of wild flowers, the trees were so thickly out in leaf, the bean-fields, with a light wind blowing over them, filled the air with such a delicious fragrance!
Late in the afternoon we came to the market- town where we were to alight from the coach--a dull little town with a church-spire, and a marketplace, and a market-cross, and one intensely sunny street, and a pond with an old horse cooling his legs in it, and a very few men sleepily lying and standing about in narrow little bits of shade.
After the rustling of the leaves and the waving of the corn all along the road, it looked as still, as hot, as motionless a little town as England could produce.
At the inn we found Mr. Boythorn on horseback, waiting with an open carriage to take us to his house, which was a few miles off.