Mr. Wardle's Servant Joe Page #2

"Mr. Wardle's Servant Joe" is a short story by Charles Dickens that offers a humorous yet poignant glimpse into the lives of the lower classes in Victorian England. The narrative centers around Joe, a comical and somewhat bumbling servant employed by Mr. Wardle, who navigates the challenges of his position with a blend of wit and sincerity. Through Joe's interactions with his employer and the other characters, Dickens explores themes of class disparity, social expectations, and human resilience. The story is notable for its vivid characterizations and the author's trademark social commentary, illuminating the complexities of life below the surface of polite society.

• Children
• Short story

								

unmarried aunt uttered a piercing scream, burst into an hysterical
laugh and fell backwards into the arms of her nieces. She recovered,
screamed again, laughed again and fainted again.

"Calm yourself," said Mr. Tupman, affected almost to tears by this
expression of sympathy. "Dear, dear Madam, calm yourself."

"You are not dead?" exclaimed the hysterical lady. "Say you are not
dead!"

"Don't be a fool, Rachel," said Mr. Winkle. "What the mischief is the
use of his saying he isn't dead?"

"No! No! I am not," said Mr. Tupman. "I require no assistance but yours.
Let me lean on your arm," he added in a whisper. Miss Rachel advanced
and offered her arm. They turned into the breakfast parlor. Mr. Tupman
gently pressed her hands to his lips and sunk upon the sofa. Presently
the others left him to her tender mercies. That afternoon Mr. Tupman,
much affected by the extreme tenderness of Miss Rachel, suggested that
as he was feeling much better they take a short stroll in the garden.
There was a bower at the farther end, all honeysuckles and creeping
plants, and somehow they unconsciously wandered in its direction and sat
down on a bench within.

"Miss Wardle," said Mr. Tupman, "you are an angel." Miss Rachel blushed
very becomingly. Much more conversation of this nature followed until
finally Mr. Tupman proceeded to do what his enthusiastic emotions
prompted and what were, (for all we know, for we are but little
acquainted with such matters) what people in such circumstances always
do. She started, and he, throwing his arms around her neck imprinted
upon her lips numerous kisses, which, after a proper show of struggling
and resistance, she received so passively that there is no telling how
many more Mr. Tupman might have bestowed if the lady had not given a
very unaffected start and exclaimed: "Mr. Tupman, we are observed! We
are discovered!"

Mr. Tupman looked around. There was the fat boy perfectly motionless,
with his large, circular eyes staring into the arbor, but without the
slightest expression on his face. Mr. Tupman gazed at the fat boy and
the fat boy stared at him, but the longer Mr. Tupman observed the utter
vacancy of the fat boy's face, the more convinced he became that he
either did not know or did not understand anything that had been
happening. Under this impression he said with great fierceness: "What do
you want here?"

"Supper is ready, sir," was the prompt reply.

"Have you just come here?" inquired Mr. Tupman, with a piercing look.

"Just," replied the fat boy. Mr. Tupman looked at him very hard again
but there was not a wink of his eye or a movement in his face. Mr.
Tupman took the arm of the spinster aunt and walked toward the house.
The fat boy followed behind.

"He knows nothing of what has happened," he whispered.

"Nothing," said the spinster aunt. There was a sound behind them as of
an imperfectly suppressed chuckle. Mr. Tupman turned sharply around.

No, it could not have been the fat boy. There was not a gleam of mirth
or anything but feeding in his whole visage. "He must have been fast
asleep," whispered Mr. Tupman.

"I have not the least doubt of it," replied Miss Rachel, and they both
laughed heartily. Mr. Tupman was wrong. The fat boy for once had not
been fast asleep. He was awake, wide awake to everything that had
happened.

The day following, Joe saw his mistress, Mr. Wardle's aged mother,
sitting in the arbor. Without saying a word he walked up to her, stood
perfectly still and said nothing.

The old lady was easily frightened; most old ladies are, and her first
impression was that Joe was about to do her some bodily harm with a view
of stealing what money she might have with her. She therefore watched
his motions, or rather lack of motions, with feelings of intense terror,
which were in no degree lessened by his finally coming close to her and
shouting in her ear, for she was very deaf, "Missus!"

"Well, Joe," said the trembling old lady, "I am sure I have been a good
mistress to you." He nodded. "You have always been treated very kindly?"
He nodded. "You have never had too much to do?" He nodded. "You have
always had enough to eat?" This last was an appeal to the fat boy's most
sensitive feelings. He seemed touched as he replied, "I know I has."

"Then what do you want to do now?"

"I wants to make yo' flesh creep," replied the boy. This sounded like a
very blood-thirsty method of showing one's gratitude and so the old lady
was as much frightened as before. "What do you think I saw in this very
arbor last night?" inquired the boy.

"Mercies, what?" screamed the old lady, alarmed at the mysterious
manner of the corpulent youth.

"A strange gentleman as had his arm around her, a kissin' and huggin'."

"Who, Joe, who? None of the servants, I hope?"

"Worser than that," roared the fat boy in the old lady's ear.

"None of my granddaughters."

"Worser than that," said Joe.

"Worse than that?" said the old lady, who had thought this the extreme
limit. "Who was it, Joe? I insist upon knowing!"

The fat boy looked cautiously about and having finished his survey
shouted in the old lady's ear, "Miss Rachel!"

"What?" said the old lady in a shrill tone, "speak louder!"

"Miss Rachel," roared the fat boy.

"My daughter?" The succession of nods which the fat boy gave by way of
assent could not be doubted. "And she allowed him?" exclaimed the old
lady. A grin stole over the fat boy's features as he said, "I see her a
kissin' of him agin!" Joe's voice of necessity had been so loud that
another party in the garden could not help hearing the entire
conversation. If they could have seen the expression of the old lady's
face at this time it is probable that a sudden burst of laughter would
have betrayed them. Fragments of angry sentences drifted to them through
the leaves, such as "Without my permission!" "At her time of life!"
"Might have waited until I was dead," etc. Then they heard the heels of
the fat boy's foot crunching the gravel as he retired and left the old
lady alone.

Mr. Tupman would probably have found himself in considerable trouble if
one of his friends, who had overheard the conversation had not told Mrs.
Wardle that perhaps Joe had dreamed the entire incident, which did not
seem altogether improbable. She watched Mr. Tupman at supper that
evening, but this gentleman, having been warned, paid no attention
whatever to Miss Rachel, and the old lady was finally persuaded that it
was all a mistake.

Finally the visit of Mr. Pickwick and his friends came to an end, and it
was several months before they again partook of Mr. Wardle's
hospitality. The Pickwickians had arrived at the Inn near Mr. Wardle's
place for dinner before completing the rest of their journey to Dingley
Dell. Mr. Pickwick had brought with him several barrels of oysters and
some special wine as a gift to his host, and he stood examining his

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