Clapham had purchased and presented to him. He bought him a silver
pencil-case; and in the matter of learning let him do just as much or as
little as ever he pleased. He always seemed to be on the point of
unbosoming himself to Pen: nay, he confessed to the latter that he had
a--an attachment, an ardently cherished attachment, about which Pendennis
longed to hear, and said, "Tell us, old chap, is she handsome? has she
got blue eyes or black?" But Doctor Portman's curate, heaving a gentle
sigh, cast up his eyes to the ceiling, and begged Pen faintly to change
the conversation. Poor Smirke! He invited Pen to dine at his lodgings
over Madame Fribsby's, the milliner's, in Clavering; and once when it was
raining, and Mrs. Pendennis, who had driven in her pony-chaise into
Clavering with respect to some arrangements, about leaving off mourning
probably, was prevailed upon to enter the curate's apartments, he sent
out for pound-cakes instantly. The sofa on which she sate became sacred
to him from that day: and he kept flowers in the glass which she drank
from ever after.

As Mrs. Pendennis was never tired of hearing the praises of her son, we
may be certain that this rogue of a_ tutor neglected no opportunity of
conversing with her upon that subject. It might be a little tedious to
him to hear the stories about Pen's generosity, about his bravery in
fighting the big naughty boy, about his fun and jokes, about his
prodigious skill in Latin, music, riding, etc., but what price would he
not pay to be in her company? and the widow, after these conversations,
thought Mr. Smirke a very pleasing and well-informed man. As for her son,
she had not settled in her mind whether he was to be Senior Wrangler and
Archbishop of Canterbury, or Double First Class at Oxford, and Lord
Chancellor. That all England did not possess his peer, was a fact about
which there was, in her mind, no manner of question.