. The population of the Yard
were astonished at the meeting, for the two powers had never been seen there
together, within the memory of the oldest Bleeding Heart. But, they were
overcome by unutterable amazement, when Mr. Pancks, going close up to the most
venerable of men, and halting in front of the bottle-green waistcoat, made a
trigger of his right thumb and forefinger, applied the same to the brim of the
broad-brimmed hat, and, with singular smartness and precision, shot it off the
polished head as if it had been a large marble.
    Having taken this little liberty with the Patriarchal person, Mr. Pancks
further astounded and attracted the Bleeding Hearts by saying in an audible
voice, »Now, you sugary swindler, I mean to have it out with you!«
    Mr. Pancks and the Patriarch were instantly the centre of a press, all eyes
and ears; windows were thrown open, and door-steps were thronged.
    »What do you pretend to be?« said Mr. Pancks. »What's your moral game? What
do you go in for? Benevolence, ain't it? YOU benevolent!« Here Mr. Pancks,
apparently without the intention of hitting him, but merely to relieve his mind
and expend his superfluous power in wholesome exercise, aimed a blow at the
bumpy head, which the bumpy head ducked to avoid. This singular performance was
repeated, to the ever-increasing admiration of the spectators, at the end of
every succeeding article of Mr. Pancks's oration.
    »I have discharged myself from your service,« said Pancks, »that I may tell
you what you are. You're one of a lot of impostors that are the worst lot of all
the lots to be met with. Speaking as a sufferer by both, I don't know that I
wouldn't as soon have the Merdle lot as your lot. You're a driver in disguise, a
screwer by deputy, a wringer, and squeezer, and a shaver by substitute. You're a
philanthropic sneak. You're a shabby deceiver!«
    (The repetition of the performance at this point was received with a burst
of laughter.)
    »Ask these good people who's the hard man here. They'll tell you Pancks, I
believe.«
    This was confirmed with cries of »Certainly,« and »Hear!«
    »But I tell you, good people - Casby! This mound of meekness, this lump of
love, this bottle-green smiler,
