'All this time,' said the stranger, producing a little pocket-book and taking out a card, 'I have not mentioned my name. My name is Rokesmith. I lodge at one Mr Wilfer's, at Holloway.'
Mr Boffin stared again.
'Father of Miss Bella Wilfer?' said he.
'My landlord has a daughter named Bella. Yes; no doubt.'
Now, this name had been more or less in Mr Boffin's thoughts all the morning, and for days before; therefore he said:
'That's singular, too!' unconsciously staring again, past all bounds of good manners, with the card in his hand. 'Though, by-the-bye, Isuppose it was one of that family that pinted me out?'
'No. I have never been in the streets with one of them.'
'Heard me talked of among 'em, though?'
'No. I occupy my own rooms, and have held scarcely any communication with them.'
'Odder and odder!' said Mr Boffin. 'Well, sir, to tell you the truth, Idon't know what to say to you.'
'Say nothing,' returned Mr Rokesmith; 'allow me to call on you in a few days. I am not so unconscionable as to think it likely that you would accept me on trust at first sight, and take me out of the very street. Let me come to you for your further opinion, at your leisure.'
'That's fair, and I don't object,' said Mr Boffin; 'but it must be on condition that it's fully understood that I no more know that I shall ever be in want of any gentleman as Secretary--it WAS Secretary you said; wasn't it?'
'Yes.'
Again Mr Boffin's eyes opened wide, and he stared at the applicant from head to foot, repeating 'Queer!--You're sure it was Secretary?
Are you?'
'I am sure I said so.'
--'As Secretary,' repeated Mr Boffin, meditating upon the word; 'Ino more know that I may ever want a Secretary, or what not, than Ido that I shall ever be in want of the man in the moon. Me and Mrs Boffin have not even settled that we shall make any change in our way of life. Mrs Boffin's inclinations certainly do tend towards Fashion; but, being already set up in a fashionable way at the Bower, she may not make further alterations. However, sir, as you don't press yourself, I wish to meet you so far as saying, by all means call at the Bower if you like. Call in the course of a week or two. At the same time, I consider that I ought to name, in addition to what I have already named, that I have in my employment a literary man--WITH a wooden leg--as I have no thoughts of parting from.'
'I regret to hear I am in some sort anticipated,' Mr Rokesmith answered, evidently having heard it with surprise; 'but perhaps other duties might arise?'
'You see,' returned Mr Boffin, with a confidential sense of dignity, 'as to my literary man's duties, they're clear. Professionally he declines and he falls, and as a friend he drops into poetry.'
Without observing that these duties seemed by no means clear to Mr Rokesmith's astonished comprehension, Mr Boffin went on:
'And now, sir, I'll wish you good-day. You can call at the Bower any time in a week or two. It's not above a mile or so from you, and your landlord can direct you to it. But as he may not know it by it's new name of Boffin's Bower, say, when you inquire of him, it's Harmon's; will you?'
'Harmoon's,' repeated Mr Rokesmith, seeming to have caught the sound imperfectly, 'Harmarn's. How do you spell it?'
'Why, as to the spelling of it,' returned Mr Boffin, with great presence of mind, 'that's YOUR look out. Harmon's is all you've got to say to HIM. Morning, morning, morning!' And so departed, without looking back.
