The mock hostilities having
finally been brought to a close, Mr. Headstone emerges from behind the deal
board to find the Game Chicken and the diminutive figure in cap and apron
enveloped in a companionable cloud of tobacco smoke. The latter gentleman is
introduced as Phil Squod, whom the Chicken is proud to display as a living example
of the incombustible nature of man, and whose history of incendiary misfortunes
– which include being scorched in an accident at a gas-works, and being blown
out of a window whilst case-filling in the firework business – is testament to
the fact that (the recent unfortunate demise of a rag and bone dealer in
Chancery Lane notwithstanding) individuals are not inclined to burn as easily
as wicks or tows. To demonstrate his conviction of this belief, the Chicken
applies the smoldering tip of his cigar to the hem of his companion’s apron until
it catches fire. With perfect equanimity, Phil Squod inhales the smoke as if it
were the finest Virginian leaf, and remarks that it is uncommonly warm for the
time of year, which observation causes much merriment between himself and the
Chicken. Mr. Headstone, fearful of the imminent immolation of his new
acquaintance, looks about him and spies a bucket in the corner. He takes it up,
runs outside to the Pump, fills it with exceedingly cold water, and returns.
Uncertain of his aim, he douses both gentlemen with the contents, which has the
desired effect of dampening both the flames and their humour.
Mr Charles Dickens
