For a long, long time, it was his chief delight
to travel in the steps of the old man and the child (so far as he
could trace them from her last narrative), to halt where they had
halted, sympathise where they had suffered, and rejoice where they
had been made glad. Those who had been kind to them, did not
escape his search. The sisters at the school--they who were her
friends, because themselves so friendless--Mrs Jarley of the
wax-work, Codlin, Short--he found them all; and trust me, the man
who fed the furnace fire was not forgotten.
Kit's story having got abroad, raised him up a host of friends, and
many offers of provision for his future life. He had no idea at
first of ever quitting Mr Garland's service; but, after serious
remonstrance and advice from that gentleman, began to contemplate
the possibility of such a change being brought about in time. A
good post was procured for him, with a rapidity which took away his
breath, by some of the gentlemen who had believed him guilty of the
offence laid to his charge, and who had acted upon that belief.
Through the same kind agency, his mother was secured from want, and
made quite happy. Thus, as Kit often said, his great misfortune
turned out to be the source of all his subsequent prosperity.
Did Kit live a single man all his days, or did he marry? Of course
he married, and who should be his wife but Barbara? And the best
of it was, he married so soon that little Jacob was an uncle,
before the calves of his legs, already mentioned in this history,
had ever been encased in broadcloth pantaloons,--though that was
not quite the best either, for of necessity the baby was an uncle
too. The delight of Kit's mother and of Barbara's mother upon the
great occasion is past all telling; finding they agreed so well on
that, and on all other subjects, they took up their abode together,
and were a most harmonious pair of friends from that time forth.
And hadn't Astley's cause to bless itself for their all going
together once a quarter--to the pit--and didn't Kit's mother
always say, when they painted the outside, that Kit's last treat
had helped to that, and wonder what the manager would feel if he
but knew it as they passed his house!
When Kit had children six and seven years old, there was a Barbara
among them, and a pretty Barbara she was. Nor was there wanting an
exact facsimile and copy of little Jacob, as he appeared in those
remote times when they taught him what oysters meant. Of course
there was an Abel, own godson to the Mr Garland of that name; and
there was a Dick, whom Mr Swiveller did especially favour. The
little group would often gather round him of a night and beg him to
tell again that story of good Miss Nell who died. This, Kit would
do; and when they cried to hear it, wishing it longer too, he would
teach them how she had gone to Heaven, as all good people did; and
how, if they were good, like her, they might hope to be there too,
one day, and to see and know her as he had done when he was quite
a boy. Then, he would relate to them how needy he used to be, and
how she had taught him what he was otherwise too poor to learn, and
how the old man had been used to say 'she always laughs at Kit;' at
which they would brush away their tears, and laugh themselves to
think that she had done so, and be again quite merry.
