Chapter 16
MINDERS AND RE-MINDERS
The Secretary lost no time in getting to work, and his vigilanceand method soon set their mark on the Golden Dustman's affairs. Hisearnestness in determining to understand the length and breadth anddepth of every piece of work submitted to him by his employer, was asspecial as his despatch in transacting it. He accepted no informationor explanation at second hand, but made himself the master of everythingconfided to him.
One part of the Secretary's conduct, underlying all the rest, might havebeen mistrusted by a man with a better knowledge of men than theGolden Dustman had. The Secretary was as far from being inquisitiveor intrusive as Secretary could be, but nothing less than a completeunderstanding of the whole of the affairs would content him. It soonbecame apparent (from the knowledge with which he set out) that he musthave been to the office where the Harmon will was registered, and musthave read the will. He anticipated Mr Boffin's consideration whether heshould be advised with on this or that topic, by showing that healready knew of it and understood it. He did this with no attempt atconcealment, seeming to be satisfied that it was part of his duty tohave prepared himself at all attainable points for its utmost discharge.
This might--let it be repeated--have awakened some little vague mistrustin a man more worldly-wise than the Golden Dustman. On the other hand,the Secretary was discerning, discreet, and silent, though as zealous asif the affairs had been his own. He showed no love of patronage or thecommand of money, but distinctly preferred resigning both to MrBoffin. If, in his limited sphere, he sought power, it was the powerof knowledge; the power derivable from a perfect comprehension of hisbusiness.
As on the Secretary's face there was a nameless cloud, so on hismanner there was a shadow equally indefinable. It was not that he wasembarrassed, as on that first night with the Wilfer family; he washabitually unembarrassed now, and yet the something remained. It was notthat his manner was bad, as on that occasion; it was now very good, asbeing modest, gracious, and ready. Yet the something never left it. Ithas been written of men who have undergone a cruel captivity, or whohave passed through a terrible strait, or who in self-preservation havekilled a defenceless fellow-creature, that the record thereof has neverfaded from their countenances until they died. Was there any such recordhere?
He established a temporary office for himself in the new house, and allwent well under his hand, with one singular exception. He manifestlyobjected to communicate with Mr Boffin's solicitor. Two or three times,when there was some slight occasion for his doing so, he transferredthe task to Mr Boffin; and his evasion of it soon became so curiouslyapparent, that Mr Boffin spoke to him on the subject of his reluctance.
'It is so,' the Secretary admitted. 'I would rather not.'
Had he any personal objection to Mr Lightwood?
'I don't know him.'
Had he suffered from law-suits?
'Not more than other men,' was his short answer.
Was he prejudiced against the race of lawyers?
'No. But while I am in your employment, sir, I would rather be excusedfrom going between the lawyer and the client. Of course if you press it,Mr Boffin, I am ready to comply. But I should take it as a great favourif you would not press it without urgent occasion.'
Now, it could not be said that there WAS urgent occasion, for Lightwoodretained no other affairs in his hands than such as still lingered andlanguished about the undiscovered criminal, and such as arose out of thepurchase of the house. Many other matters that might have travelled tohim, now stopped short at the Secretary, under whose administration theywere far more expeditiously and satisfactorily disposed of than theywould have been if they had got into Young Blight's domain. This theGolden Dustman quite understood. Even the matter immediately in handwas of very little moment as requiring personal appearance on theSecretary's part, for it amounted to no more than this:--The death ofHexam rendering the sweat of the honest man's brow unprofitable, thehonest man had shufflingly declined to moisten his brow for nothing,with that severe exertion which is known in legal circles as swearingyour way through a stone wall. Consequently, that new light had gonesputtering out. But, the airing of the old facts had led some oneconcerned to suggest that it would be well before they were reconsignedto their gloomy shelf--now probably for ever--to induce or compel thatMr Julius Handford to reappear and be questioned. And all traces of MrJulius Handford being lost, Lightwood now referred to his client forauthority to seek him through public advertisement.
'Does your objection go to writing to Lightwood, Rokesmith?'
'Not in the least, sir.'
'Then perhaps you'll write him a line, and say he is free to do what helikes. I don't think it promises.'
'I don't think it promises,' said the Secretary.
'Still, he may do what he likes.'
'I will write immediately. Let me thank you for so consideratelyyielding to my disinclination. It may seem less unreasonable, if I avowto you that although I don't know Mr Lightwood, I have a disagreeableassociation connected with him. It is not his fault; he is not at all toblame for it, and does not even know my name.'
Mr Boffin dismissed the matter with a nod or two. The letter waswritten, and next day Mr Julius Handford was advertised for. He wasrequested to place himself in communication with Mr Mortimer Lightwood,as a possible means of furthering the ends of justice, and a reward wasoffered to any one acquainted with his whereabout who would communicatethe same to the said Mr Mortimer Lightwood at his office in the Temple.Every day for six weeks this advertisement appeared at the head of allthe newspapers, and every day for six weeks the Secretary, when hesaw it, said to himself; in the tone in which he had said to hisemployer,--'I don't think it promises!'
Among his first occupations the pursuit of that orphan wanted byMrs Boffin held a conspicuous place. From the earliest moment of hisengagement he showed a particular desire to please her, and, knowing herto have this object at heart, he followed it up with unwearying alacrityand interest.
Mr and Mrs Milvey had found their search a difficult one. Either aneligible orphan was of the wrong sex (which almost always happened)or was too old, or too young, or too sickly, or too dirty, or too muchaccustomed to the streets, or too likely to run away; or, it was foundimpossible to complete the philanthropic transaction without buying theorphan. For, the instant it became known that anybody wanted the orphan,up started some affectionate relative of the orphan who put a price uponthe orphan's head. The suddenness of an orphan's rise in the market wasnot to be paralleled by the maddest records of the Stock Exchange. Hewould be at five thousand per cent discount out at nurse making a mudpie at nine in the morning, and (being inquired for) would go up tofive thousand per cent premium before noon. The market was 'rigged' invarious artful ways. Counterfeit stock got into circulation. Parentsboldly represented themselves as dead, and brought their orphans withthem. Genuine orphan-stock was surreptitiously withdrawn from themarket. It being announced, by emissaries posted for the purpose, thatMr and Mrs Milvey were coming down the court, orphan scrip would beinstantly concealed, and production refused, save on a condition usuallystated by the brokers as 'a gallon of beer'. Likewise, fluctuations ofa wild and South-Sea nature were occasioned, by orphan-holders keepingback, and then rushing into the market a dozen together. But, theuniform principle at the root of all these various operations wasbargain and sale; and that principle could not be recognized by Mr andMrs Milvey.
At length, tidings were received by the Reverend Frank of a charmingorphan to be found at Brentford. One of the deceased parents (late hisparishioners) had a poor widowed grandmother in that agreeable town, andshe, Mrs Betty Higden, had carried off the orphan with maternal care,but could not afford to keep him.
The Secretary proposed to Mrs Boffin, either to go down himself andtake a preliminary survey of this orphan, or to drive her down, thatshe might at once form her own opinion. Mrs Boffin preferring the lattercourse, they set off one morning in a hired phaeton, conveying theham
mer-headed young man behind them.
The abode of Mrs Betty Higden was not easy to find, lying in suchcomplicated back settlements of muddy Brentford that they left theirequipage at the sign of the Three Magpies, and went in search of it onfoot. After many inquiries and defeats, there was pointed out to themin a lane, a very small cottage residence, with a board across the opendoorway, hooked on to which board by the armpits was a young gentlemanof tender years, angling for mud with a headless wooden horse and line.In this young sportsman, distinguished by a crisply curling auburn headand a bluff countenance, the Secretary descried the orphan.
It unfortunately happened as they quickened their pace, that the orphan,lost to considerations of personal safety in the ardour of the moment,overbalanced himself and toppled into the street. Being an orphan of achubby conformation, he then took to rolling, and had rolled into thegutter before they could come up. From the gutter he was rescued by JohnRokesmith, and thus the first meeting with Mrs Higden was inaugurated bythe awkward circumstance of their being in possession--one would say atfirst sight unlawful possession--of the orphan, upside down and purplein the countenance. The board across the doorway too, acting as a trapequally for the feet of Mrs Higden coming out, and the feet of MrsBoffin and John Rokesmith going in, greatly increased the difficulty ofthe situation: to which the cries of the orphan imparted a lugubriousand inhuman character.
At first, it was impossible to explain, on account of the orphan's'holding his breath': a most terrific proceeding, super-inducing in theorphan lead-colour rigidity and a deadly silence, compared with whichhis cries were music yielding the height of enjoyment. But as hegradually recovered, Mrs Boffin gradually introduced herself; andsmiling peace was gradually wooed back to Mrs Betty Higden's home.
It was then perceived to be a small home with a large mangle in it, atthe handle of which machine stood a very long boy, with a very littlehead, and an open mouth of disproportionate capacity that seemed toassist his eyes in staring at the visitors. In a corner below themangle, on a couple of stools, sat two very little children: a boy and agirl; and when the very long boy, in an interval of staring, took a turnat the mangle, it was alarming to see how it lunged itself at those twoinnocents, like a catapult designed for their destruction, harmlesslyretiring when within an inch of their heads. The room was clean andneat. It had a brick floor, and a window of diamond panes, and a flouncehanging below the chimney-piece, and strings nailed from bottom to topoutside the window on which scarlet-beans were to grow in the comingseason if the Fates were propitious. However propitious they might havebeen in the seasons that were gone, to Betty Higden in the matter ofbeans, they had not been very favourable in the matter of coins; for itwas easy to see that she was poor.
She was one of those old women, was Mrs Betty Higden, who by dint ofan indomitable purpose and a strong constitution fight out many years,though each year has come with its new knock-down blows fresh to thefight against her, wearied by it; an active old woman, with a brightdark eye and a resolute face, yet quite a tender creature too; not alogically-reasoning woman, but God is good, and hearts may count inHeaven as high as heads.
'Yes sure!' said she, when the business was opened, 'Mrs Milvey had thekindness to write to me, ma'am, and I got Sloppy to read it. It was apretty letter. But she's an affable lady.'
The visitors glanced at the long boy, who seemed to indicate by abroader stare of his mouth and eyes that in him Sloppy stood confessed.
'For I aint, you must know,' said Betty, 'much of a hand at readingwriting-hand, though I can read my Bible and most print. And I do love anewspaper. You mightn't think it, but Sloppy is a beautiful reader of anewspaper. He do the Police in different voices.'
The visitors again considered it a point of politeness to look atSloppy, who, looking at them, suddenly threw back his head, extended hismouth to its utmost width, and laughed loud and long. At this the twoinnocents, with their brains in that apparent danger, laughed, and MrsHigden laughed, and the orphan laughed, and then the visitors laughed.Which was more cheerful than intelligible.
Then Sloppy seeming to be seized with an industrious mania or fury,turned to at the mangle, and impelled it at the heads of the innocentswith such a creaking and rumbling, that Mrs Higden stopped him.
'The gentlefolks can't hear themselves speak, Sloppy. Bide a bit, bide abit!'
'Is that the dear child in your lap?' said Mrs Boffin.
'Yes, ma'am, this is Johnny.'
'Johnny, too!' cried Mrs Boffin, turning to the Secretary; 'alreadyJohnny! Only one of the two names left to give him! He's a pretty boy.'
With his chin tucked down in his shy childish manner, he was lookingfurtively at Mrs Boffin out of his blue eyes, and reaching his fatdimpled hand up to the lips of the old woman, who was kissing it bytimes.
'Yes, ma'am, he's a pretty boy, he's a dear darling boy, he's the childof my own last left daughter's daughter. But she's gone the way of allthe rest.'
'Those are not his brother and sister?' said Mrs Boffin.
'Oh, dear no, ma'am. Those are Minders.'
'Minders?' the Secretary repeated.
'Left to be Minded, sir. I keep a Minding-School. I can take only three,on account of the Mangle. But I love children, and Four-pence a week isFour-pence. Come here, Toddles and Poddles.'
Toddles was the pet-name of the boy; Poddles of the girl. At theirlittle unsteady pace, they came across the floor, hand-in-hand, as ifthey were traversing an extremely difficult road intersected by brooks,and, when they had had their heads patted by Mrs Betty Higden, madelunges at the orphan, dramatically representing an attempt to bear him,crowing, into captivity and slavery. All the three children enjoyed thisto a delightful extent, and the sympathetic Sloppy again laughed longand loud. When it was discreet to stop the play, Betty Higden said'Go to your seats Toddles and Poddles,' and they returned hand-in-handacross country, seeming to find the brooks rather swollen by late rains.
'And Master--or Mister--Sloppy?' said the Secretary, in doubt whether hewas man, boy, or what.
'A love-child,' returned Betty Higden, dropping her voice; 'parentsnever known; found in the street. He was brought up in the--' with ashiver of repugnance, '--the House.'
'The Poor-house?' said the Secretary.
Mrs Higden set that resolute old face of hers, and darkly nodded yes.
'You dislike the mention of it.'
'Dislike the mention of it?' answered the old woman. 'Kill me soonerthan take me there. Throw this pretty child under cart-horses feet anda loaded waggon, sooner than take him there. Come to us and find us alla-dying, and set a light to us all where we lie and let us all blazeaway with the house into a heap of cinders sooner than move a corpse ofus there!'
A surprising spirit in this lonely woman after so many years of hardworking, and hard living, my Lords and Gentlemen and HonourableBoards! What is it that we call it in our grandiose speeches? Britishindependence, rather perverted? Is that, or something like it, the ringof the cant?
'Do I never read in the newspapers,' said the dame, fondling thechild--'God help me and the like of me!--how the worn-out people thatdo come down to that, get driven from post to pillar and pillar to post,a-purpose to tire them out! Do I never read how they are put off, putoff, put off--how they are grudged, grudged, grudged, the shelter, orthe doctor, or the drop of physic, or the bit of bread? Do I neverread how they grow heartsick of it and give it up, after having letthemselves drop so low, and how they after all die out for want of help?Then I say, I hope I can die as well as another, and I'll die withoutthat disgrace.'
Absolutely impossible my Lords and Gentlemen and Honourable Boards, byany stretch of legislative wisdom to set these perverse people right intheir logic?
'Johnny, my pretty,' continued old Betty, caressing the child, andrather mourning over it than speaking to it, 'your old Granny Betty isnigher fourscore year than threescore and ten. She never begged nor hada penny of the Union money in all her life. She paid scot and shepaid lot when she had money
to pay; she worked when she could, andshe starved when she must. You pray that your Granny may have strengthenough left her at the last (she's strong for an old one, Johnny), toget up from her bed and run and hide herself and swown to death in ahole, sooner than fall into the hands of those Cruel Jacks we read ofthat dodge and drive, and worry and weary, and scorn and shame, thedecent poor.'
A brilliant success, my Lords and Gentlemen and Honourable Boards tohave brought it to this in the minds of the best of the poor! Undersubmission, might it be worth thinking of at any odd time?
The fright and abhorrence that Mrs Betty Higden smoothed out of herstrong face as she ended this diversion, showed how seriously she hadmeant it.
'And does he work for you?' asked the Secretary, gently bringing thediscourse back to Master or Mister Sloppy.
'Yes,' said Betty with a good-humoured smile and nod of the head. 'Andwell too.'
'Does he live here?'
'He lives more here than anywhere. He was thought to be no better than aNatural, and first come to me as a Minder. I made interest with Mr Bloggthe Beadle to have him as a Minder, seeing him by chance up at church,and thinking I might do something with him. For he was a weak rickettycreetur then.'
'Is he called by his right name?'
'Why, you see, speaking quite correctly, he has no right name. I alwaysunderstood he took his name from being found on a Sloppy night.'
'He seems an amiable fellow.'
'Bless you, sir, there's not a bit of him,' returned Betty, 'that's notamiable. So you may judge how amiable he is, by running your eye alonghis heighth.'
Of an ungainly make was Sloppy. Too much of him longwise, too little ofhim broadwise, and too many sharp angles of him angle-wise. One of thoseshambling male human creatures, born to be indiscreetly candid in therevelation of buttons; every button he had about him glaring at thepublic to a quite preternatural extent. A considerable capital of kneeand elbow and wrist and ankle, had Sloppy, and he didn't know how todispose of it to the best advantage, but was always investing it inwrong securities, and so getting himself into embarrassed circumstances.Full-Private Number One in the Awkward Squad of the rank and file oflife, was Sloppy, and yet had his glimmering notions of standing true tothe Colours.
'And now,' said Mrs Boffin, 'concerning Johnny.'
As Johnny, with his chin tucked in and lips pouting, reclined in Betty'slap, concentrating his blue eyes on the visitors and shading them fromobservation with a dimpled arm, old Betty took one of his fresh fathands in her withered right, and fell to gently beating it on herwithered left.
'Yes, ma'am. Concerning Johnny.'
'If you trust the dear child to me,' said Mrs Boffin, with a faceinviting trust, 'he shall have the best of homes, the best of care, thebest of education, the best of friends. Please God I will be a true goodmother to him!'
'I am thankful to you, ma'am, and the dear child would be thankful ifhe was old enough to understand.' Still lightly beating the little handupon her own. 'I wouldn't stand in the dear child's light, not if I hadall my life before me instead of a very little of it. But I hope youwon't take it ill that I cleave to the child closer than words can tell,for he's the last living thing left me.'
'Take it ill, my dear soul? Is it likely? And you so tender of him as tobring him home here!'
'I have seen,' said Betty, still with that light beat upon her hardrough hand, 'so many of them on my lap. And they are all gone but thisone! I am ashamed to seem so selfish, but I don't really mean it. It'llbe the making of his fortune, and he'll be a gentleman when I am dead.I--I--don't know what comes over me. I--try against it. Don't noticeme!' The light beat stopped, the resolute mouth gave way, and the finestrong old face broke up into weakness and tears.
Now, greatly to the relief of the visitors, the emotional Sloppy nosooner beheld his patroness in this condition, than, throwing back hishead and throwing open his mouth, he lifted up his voice and bellowed.This alarming note of something wrong instantly terrified Toddles andPoddles, who were no sooner heard to roar surprisingly, than Johnny,curving himself the wrong way and striking out at Mrs Boffin with a pairof indifferent shoes, became a prey to despair. The absurdity of thesituation put its pathos to the rout. Mrs Betty Higden was herself ina moment, and brought them all to order with that speed, that Sloppy,stopping short in a polysyllabic bellow, transferred his energy tothe mangle, and had taken several penitential turns before he could bestopped.
'There, there, there!' said Mrs Boffin, almost regarding her kind selfas the most ruthless of women. 'Nothing is going to be done. Nobody needbe frightened. We're all comfortable; ain't we, Mrs Higden?'
'Sure and certain we are,' returned Betty.
'And there really is no hurry, you know,' said Mrs Boffin in a lowervoice. 'Take time to think of it, my good creature!'
'Don't you fear ME no more, ma'am,' said Betty; 'I thought of it forgood yesterday. I don't know what come over me just now, but it'll nevercome again.'
'Well, then, Johnny shall have more time to think of it,' returned MrsBoffin; 'the pretty child shall have time to get used to it. And you'llget him more used to it, if you think well of it; won't you?'
Betty undertook that, cheerfully and readily.
'Lor,' cried Mrs Boffin, looking radiantly about her, 'we want to makeeverybody happy, not dismal!--And perhaps you wouldn't mind letting meknow how used to it you begin to get, and how it all goes on?'
'I'll send Sloppy,' said Mrs Higden.
'And this gentleman who has come with me will pay him for his trouble,'said Mrs Boffin. 'And Mr Sloppy, whenever you come to my house, besure you never go away without having had a good dinner of meat, beer,vegetables, and pudding.'
This still further brightened the face of affairs; for, the highlysympathetic Sloppy, first broadly staring and grinning, and then roaringwith laughter, Toddles and Poddles followed suit, and Johnny trumpedthe trick. T and P considering these favourable circumstances forthe resumption of that dramatic descent upon Johnny, again cameacross-country hand-in-hand upon a buccaneering expedition; and thishaving been fought out in the chimney corner behind Mrs Higden's chair,with great valour on both sides, those desperate pirates returnedhand-in-hand to their stools, across the dry bed of a mountain torrent.
'You must tell me what I can do for you, Betty my friend,' said MrsBoffin confidentially, 'if not to-day, next time.'
'Thank you all the same, ma'am, but I want nothing for myself. I canwork. I'm strong. I can walk twenty mile if I'm put to it.' Old Bettywas proud, and said it with a sparkle in her bright eyes.
'Yes, but there are some little comforts that you wouldn't be the worsefor,' returned Mrs Boffin. 'Bless ye, I wasn't born a lady any more thanyou.'
'It seems to me,' said Betty, smiling, 'that you were born a lady, anda true one, or there never was a lady born. But I couldn't take anythingfrom you, my dear. I never did take anything from any one. It ain't thatI'm not grateful, but I love to earn it better.'
'Well, well!' returned Mrs Boffin. 'I only spoke of little things, or Iwouldn't have taken the liberty.'
Betty put her visitor's hand to her lips, in acknowledgment of thedelicate answer. Wonderfully upright her figure was, and wonderfullyself-reliant her look, as, standing facing her visitor, she explainedherself further.
'If I could have kept the dear child, without the dread that's alwaysupon me of his coming to that fate I have spoken of, I could never haveparted with him, even to you. For I love him, I love him, I love him! Ilove my husband long dead and gone, in him; I love my children dead andgone, in him; I love my young and hopeful days dead and gone, in him. Icouldn't sell that love, and look you in your bright kind face. It's afree gift. I am in want of nothing. When my strength fails me, if Ican but die out quick and quiet, I shall be quite content. I have stoodbetween my dead and that shame I have spoken of; and it has been keptoff from every one of them. Sewed into my gown,' with her hand uponher breast, 'is just enough to lay me in the grave. Only see that it'srightly spent, so as
I may rest free to the last from that cruelty anddisgrace, and you'll have done much more than a little thing for me, andall that in this present world my heart is set upon.'
Mrs Betty Higden's visitor pressed her hand. There was no more breakingup of the strong old face into weakness. My Lords and Gentlemen andHonourable Boards, it really was as composed as our own faces, andalmost as dignified.
And now, Johnny was to be inveigled into occupying a temporaryposition on Mrs Boffin's lap. It was not until he had been piqued intocompetition with the two diminutive Minders, by seeing them successivelyraised to that post and retire from it without injury, that he could beby any means induced to leave Mrs Betty Higden's skirts; towards whichhe exhibited, even when in Mrs Boffin's embrace, strong yearnings,spiritual and bodily; the former expressed in a very gloomy visage,the latter in extended arms. However, a general description of thetoy-wonders lurking in Mr Boffin's house, so far conciliated thisworldly-minded orphan as to induce him to stare at her frowningly,with a fist in his mouth, and even at length to chuckle when arichly-caparisoned horse on wheels, with a miraculous gift of canteringto cake-shops, was mentioned. This sound being taken up by the Minders,swelled into a rapturous trio which gave general satisfaction.
So, the interview was considered very successful, and Mrs Boffin waspleased, and all were satisfied. Not least of all, Sloppy, who undertookto conduct the visitors back by the best way to the Three Magpies, andwhom the hammer-headed young man much despised.
This piece of business thus put in train, the Secretary drove Mrs Boffinback to the Bower, and found employment for himself at the new houseuntil evening. Whether, when evening came, he took a way to his lodgingsthat led through fields, with any design of finding Miss Bella Wilferin those fields, is not so certain as that she regularly walked there atthat hour.
And, moreover, it is certain that there she was.
No longer in mourning, Miss Bella was dressed in as pretty colours asshe could muster. There is no denying that she was as pretty as they,and that she and the colours went very prettily together. She wasreading as she walked, and of course it is to be inferred, from hershowing no knowledge of Mr Rokesmith's approach, that she did not knowhe was approaching.
'Eh?' said Miss Bella, raising her eyes from her book, when he stoppedbefore her. 'Oh! It's you.'
'Only I. A fine evening!'
'Is it?' said Bella, looking coldly round. 'I suppose it is, now youmention it. I have not been thinking of the evening.'
'So intent upon your book?'
'Ye-e-es,' replied Bella, with a drawl of indifference.
'A love story, Miss Wilfer?'
'Oh dear no, or I shouldn't be reading it. It's more about money thananything else.'
'And does it say that money is better than anything?'
'Upon my word,' returned Bella, 'I forget what it says, but you can findout for yourself if you like, Mr Rokesmith. I don't want it any more.'
The Secretary took the book--she had fluttered the leaves as if it werea fan--and walked beside her.
'I am charged with a message for you, Miss Wilfer.'
'Impossible, I think!' said Bella, with another drawl.
'From Mrs Boffin. She desired me to assure you of the pleasure she hasin finding that she will be ready to receive you in another week or twoat furthest.'
Bella turned her head towards him, with her prettily-insolent eyebrowsraised, and her eyelids drooping. As much as to say, 'How did YOU comeby the message, pray?'
'I have been waiting for an opportunity of telling you that I am MrBoffin's Secretary.'
'I am as wise as ever,' said Miss Bella, loftily, 'for I don't know whata Secretary is. Not that it signifies.'
'Not at all.'
A covert glance at her face, as he walked beside her, showed him thatshe had not expected his ready assent to that proposition.
'Then are you going to be always there, Mr Rokesmith?' she inquired, asif that would be a drawback.
'Always? No. Very much there? Yes.'
'Dear me!' drawled Bella, in a tone of mortification.
'But my position there as Secretary, will be very different from yoursas guest. You will know little or nothing about me. I shall transactthe business: you will transact the pleasure. I shall have my salary toearn; you will have nothing to do but to enjoy and attract.'
'Attract, sir?' said Bella, again with her eyebrows raised, and hereyelids drooping. 'I don't understand you.'
Without replying on this point, Mr Rokesmith went on.
'Excuse me; when I first saw you in your black dress--'
('There!' was Miss Bella's mental exclamation. 'What did I say to themat home? Everybody noticed that ridiculous mourning.')
'When I first saw you in your black dress, I was at a loss to accountfor that distinction between yourself and your family. I hope it was notimpertinent to speculate upon it?'
'I hope not, I am sure,' said Miss Bella, haughtily. 'But you ought toknow best how you speculated upon it.'
Mr Rokesmith inclined his head in a deprecatory manner, and went on.
'Since I have been entrusted with Mr Boffin's affairs, I havenecessarily come to understand the little mystery. I venture to remarkthat I feel persuaded that much of your loss may be repaired. Ispeak, of course, merely of wealth, Miss Wilfer. The loss of a perfectstranger, whose worth, or worthlessness, I cannot estimate--nor youeither--is beside the question. But this excellent gentleman and ladyare so full of simplicity, so full of generosity, so inclined towardsyou, and so desirous to--how shall I express it?--to make amends fortheir good fortune, that you have only to respond.'
As he watched her with another covert look, he saw a certain ambitioustriumph in her face which no assumed coldness could conceal.
'As we have been brought under one roof by an accidental combination ofcircumstances, which oddly extends itself to the new relations beforeus, I have taken the liberty of saying these few words. You don'tconsider them intrusive I hope?' said the Secretary with deference.
'Really, Mr Rokesmith, I can't say what I consider them,' returned theyoung lady. 'They are perfectly new to me, and may be founded altogetheron your own imagination.'
'You will see.'
These same fields were opposite the Wilfer premises. The discreetMrs Wilfer now looking out of window and beholding her daughter inconference with her lodger, instantly tied up her head and came out fora casual walk.
'I have been telling Miss Wilfer,' said John Rokesmith, as the majesticlady came stalking up, 'that I have become, by a curious chance, MrBoffin's Secretary or man of business.'
'I have not,' returned Mrs Wilfer, waving her gloves in her chronicstate of dignity, and vague ill-usage, 'the honour of any intimateacquaintance with Mr Boffin, and it is not for me to congratulate thatgentleman on the acquisition he has made.'
'A poor one enough,' said Rokesmith.
'Pardon me,' returned Mrs Wilfer, 'the merits of Mr Boffin may be highlydistinguished--may be more distinguished than the countenance of MrsBoffin would imply--but it were the insanity of humility to deem himworthy of a better assistant.'
'You are very good. I have also been telling Miss Wilfer that she isexpected very shortly at the new residence in town.'
'Having tacitly consented,' said Mrs Wilfer, with a grand shrug of hershoulders, and another wave of her gloves, 'to my child's acceptance ofthe proffered attentions of Mrs Boffin, I interpose no objection.'
Here Miss Bella offered the remonstrance: 'Don't talk nonsense, ma,please.'
'Peace!' said Mrs Wilfer.
'No, ma, I am not going to be made so absurd. Interposing objections!'
'I say,' repeated Mrs Wilfer, with a vast access of grandeur, 'that I amNOT going to interpose objections. If Mrs Boffin (to whose countenanceno disciple of Lavater could possibly for a single moment subscribe),'with a shiver, 'seeks to illuminate her new residence in town with theattractions of a child of mine, I am content that she should be favouredby the company of a child of mine.'
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'You use the word, ma'am, I have myself used,' said Rokesmith, with aglance at Bella, 'when you speak of Miss Wilfer's attractions there.'
'Pardon me,' returned Mrs Wilfer, with dreadful solemnity, 'but I hadnot finished.'
'Pray excuse me.'
'I was about to say,' pursued Mrs Wilfer, who clearly had not hadthe faintest idea of saying anything more: 'that when I use the termattractions, I do so with the qualification that I do not mean it in anyway whatever.'
The excellent lady delivered this luminous elucidation of her viewswith an air of greatly obliging her hearers, and greatly distinguishingherself. Whereat Miss Bella laughed a scornful little laugh and said:
'Quite enough about this, I am sure, on all sides. Have the goodness, MrRokesmith, to give my love to Mrs Boffin--'
'Pardon me!' cried Mrs Wilfer. 'Compliments.'
'Love!' repeated Bella, with a little stamp of her foot.
'No!' said Mrs Wilfer, monotonously. 'Compliments.'
('Say Miss Wilfer's love, and Mrs Wilfer's compliments,' the Secretaryproposed, as a compromise.)
'And I shall be very glad to come when she is ready for me. The sooner,the better.'
'One last word, Bella,' said Mrs Wilfer, 'before descending to thefamily apartment. I trust that as a child of mine you will ever besensible that it will be graceful in you, when associating with Mrand Mrs Boffin upon equal terms, to remember that the Secretary, MrRokesmith, as your father's lodger, has a claim on your good word.'
The condescension with which Mrs Wilfer delivered this proclamation ofpatronage, was as wonderful as the swiftness with which the lodgerhad lost caste in the Secretary. He smiled as the mother retired downstairs; but his face fell, as the daughter followed.
'So insolent, so trivial, so capricious, so mercenary, so careless, sohard to touch, so hard to turn!' he said, bitterly.
And added as he went upstairs. 'And yet so pretty, so pretty!'
And added presently, as he walked to and fro in his room. 'And if sheknew!'
She knew that he was shaking the house by his walking to and fro; andshe declared it another of the miseries of being poor, that you couldn'tget rid of a haunting Secretary, stump--stump--stumping overhead in thedark, like a Ghost.
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