So inexpressively that they cannot at first understand him; it is his old housekeeper who makes out what he wants and brings in a slate.

At last his old housekeeper makes out what he wants and brings in a slate.


After pausing for some time, he slowly scrawls upon it in a hand that is not his, "Chesney Wold?"

He slowly scrawls upon it in a strange hand, "Chesney Wold?"


He was taken ill in the library this morning.


Right thankful she is that she happened to come to London and is able to attend upon him.


"It is not an illness of any serious consequence, Sir Leicester.


You will be much better to-morrow, Sir Leicester.


This, with the tears coursing down her fair old face.


After making a survey of the room and looking with particular attention all round the bed where the doctors stand, he writes, "My Lady."

After looking all round the bed where the doctors stand, he writes, "My Lady."


"My Lady went out, Sir Leicester, before you were taken ill, and don't know of your illness yet."


He points again, in great agitation, at the two words.


They all try to quiet him, but he points again with increased agitation.

They try to quiet him, but he points again with increased agitation.


On their looking at one another, not knowing what to say, he takes the slate once more and writes "My Lady.


It is thought better that his old housekeeper should give him Lady Dedlock's letter, the contents of which no one knows or can surmise.

It is thought better that his old housekeeper should give him Lady Dedlock's letter.


She opens it for him and puts it out for his perusal.


Having read it twice by a great effort, he turns it down so that it shall not be seen and lies moaning.


He passes into a kind of relapse or into a swoon, and it is an hour before he opens his eyes, reclining on his faithful and attached old servant's arm.

He passes into a kind of swoon, and it is an hour before he opens his eyes.


The doctors know that he is best with her, and when not actively engaged about him, stand aloof.


The slate comes into requisition again, but the word he wants to write he cannot remember.

He signs for the slate again, but the word he wants to write he cannot remember.


His anxiety, his eagerness, and affliction at this pass are pitiable to behold.

His anxiety, his eagerness, and affliction are pitiable to behold.


It seems as if he must go mad in the necessity he feels for haste and the inability under which he labours of expressing to do what or to fetch whom.

It seems as if he must go mad in his need for haste and his inability to express what or who he wants.


He has written the letter B, and there stopped.


Of a sudden, in the height of his misery, he puts Mr. before it.


Mr. Bucket is found to be downstairs, by appointment.


There is no possibility of misconstruing Sir Leicester's burning wish to see him or the desire he signifies to have the room cleared of every one but the housekeeper.

There is no possibility of misconstruing Sir Leicester's burning wish to see him, or the desire he signifies to have the room cleared of everyone but the housekeeper.


It is speedily done, and Mr. Bucket appears.


Of all men upon earth, Sir Leicester seems fallen from his high estate to place his sole trust and reliance upon this man.


"Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet, I'm sorry to see you like this."


I'm sure you will, on account of the family credit."


Sir Leicester puts her letter in his hands and looks intently in his face while he reads it.

Sir Leicester puts the letter in his hands and looks intently in his face while he reads it.


A new intelligence comes into Mr. Bucket's eye as he reads on; with one hook of his finger, while that eye is still glancing over the words, he indicates, "Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet, I understand you."

A new intelligence comes into Mr. Bucket's eye as he reads on; he indicates that he understands it.


"Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet, I'll find her.


But my search after her must be begun out of hand.


With the quickness of thought, he follows Sir Leicester Dedlock's look towards a little box upon a table.


"Bring it here, Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet?


Twenty and thirty's fifty, and twenty's seventy, and fifty's one twenty, and forty's one sixty.


That I'll do, and render an account of course.


The velocity and certainty of Mr. Bucket's interpretation on all these heads is little short of miraculous.

The speed of Mr. Bucket's interpretation is little short of miraculous.


Mrs. Rouncewell, who holds the light, is giddy with the swiftness of his eyes and hands as he starts up, furnished for his journey.

Mrs. Rouncewell, who holds the light, is giddy as he starts up for his journey.


"You're George's mother, old lady; that's about what you are, I believe?"

"You're George's mother, old lady, I believe?"


says Mr. Bucket aside, with his hat already on and buttoning his coat.


"So I thought, according to what he mentioned to me just now.


Now, don't you begin a-crying, because what you've got to do is to take care of Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet, and you won't do that by crying.


As to your son, he's all right, I tell you; and he sends his loving duty, and hoping you're the same.

As to your son, he sends his loving duty.


He's discharged honourable; that's about what HE is; with no more imputation on his character than there is on yours, and yours is a tidy one, I'LL bet a pound.

He's discharged honourable, with no more stain on his character than there is on yours.


He conducted himself in a game way, too, on that occasion; and he's a fine-made man, and you're a fine-made old lady, and you're a mother and son, the pair of you, as might be showed for models in a caravan.

He's a fine-made man, and you're a fine-made old lady, a true mother and son, the pair of you.


Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet, what you've trusted to me I'll go through with.


Don't you be afraid of my turning out of my way, right or left, or taking a sleep, or a wash, or a shave till I have found what I go in search of.

I shan't rest till I have found what I go in search of.


Say everything as is kind and forgiving on your part?


Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet, I will."


And I wish you better, and these family affairs smoothed over--as, Lord, many other family affairs equally has been, and equally will be, to the end of time."


With this peroration, Mr. Bucket, buttoned up, goes quietly out, looking steadily before him as if he were already piercing the night in quest of the fugitive.


His first step is to take himself to Lady Dedlock's rooms and look all over them for any trifling indication that may help him.

He first takes himself to Lady Dedlock's rooms and looks all over them for anything that may help him.


The rooms are in darkness now; and to see Mr. Bucket with a wax-light in his hand, holding it above his head and taking a sharp mental inventory of the many delicate objects so curiously at variance with himself, would be to see a sight--which nobody DOES see, as he is particular to lock himself in.

The rooms are in darkness now; Mr. Bucket locks himself in, and holds a light above his head.


"A spicy boudoir, this," says Mr. Bucket, who feels in a manner furbished up in his French by the blow of the morning.

"A spicy boudoir, this," says Mr. Bucket.


Rum articles to cut away from, these; she must have been hard put to it!"


Opening and shutting table-drawers and looking into caskets and jewel-cases, he sees the reflection of himself in various mirrors, and moralizes thereon.


"One might suppose I was a-moving in the fashionable circles and getting myself up for almac's," says Mr. Bucket.


"I begin to think I must be a swell in the Guards without knowing it."


Ever looking about, he has opened a dainty little chest in an inner drawer.

He has opened a dainty little chest in an inner drawer.


His great hand, turning over some gloves which it can scarcely feel, they are so light and soft within it, comes upon a white handkerchief.

His great hand, turning over some gloves, comes upon a white handkerchief.


Let's have a look at YOU," says Mr. Bucket, putting down the light.

Let's have a look at you," says Mr. Bucket, putting down the light.


"What should YOU be kept by yourself for?

"What should you be kept by yourself for?


Are you her ladyship's property, or somebody else's?


You've got a mark upon you somewheres or another, I suppose?"


He finds it as he speaks, "Esther Summerson."

He finds it as he speaks: "Esther Summerson."


says Mr. Bucket, pausing, with his finger at his ear.


He completes his observations as quietly and carefully as he has carried them on, leaves everything else precisely as he found it, glides away after some five minutes in all, and passes into the street.

He completes his observations carefully, leaves everything else precisely as he found it, and glides away into the street.


With a glance upward at the dimly lighted windows of Sir Leicester's room, he sets off, full-swing, to the nearest coach-stand, picks out the horse for his money, and directs to be driven to the shooting gallery.

He sets off to the nearest coach-stand, picks out a horse, and directs to be driven to the shooting gallery.


Mr. Bucket does not claim to be a scientific judge of horses, but he lays out a little money on the principal events in that line, and generally sums up his knowledge of the subject in the remark that when he sees a horse as can go, he knows him.

Mr. Bucket does not claim to be a scientific judge of horses, but he remarks that when he sees a horse as can go, he knows him.


His knowledge is not at fault in the present instance.


Clattering over the stones at a dangerous pace, yet thoughtfully bringing his keen eyes to bear on every slinking creature whom he passes in the midnight streets, and even on the lights in upper windows where people are going or gone to bed, and on all the turnings that he rattles by, and alike on the heavy sky, and on the earth where the snow lies thin--for something may present itself to assist him, anywhere--he dashes to his destination at such a speed that when he stops the horse half smothers him in a cloud of steam.

Clattering over the stones at a dangerous pace, yet thoughtfully watching with keen eyes every slinking creature whom he passes in the midnight streets, where the snow lies thin, he dashes to his destination at such a speed that when he stops the horse half smothers him in a cloud of steam.


"Unbear him half a moment to freshen him up, and I'll be back."


He runs up the long wooden entry and finds the trooper smoking his pipe.

He runs up the entry and finds the trooper smoking his pipe.


"I thought I should, George, after what you have gone through, my lad.


Miss Summerson that was here when Gridley died--that was the name, I know--all right--where does she live?"

Miss Summerson that was here when Gridley died - where does she live?"


The trooper has just come from there and gives him the address, near Oxford Street.

The trooper gives him the address, near Oxford Street.


He is off again, with an impression of having seen Phil sitting by the frosty fire staring at him open-mouthed, and gallops away again, and gets out in a cloud of steam again.

He is off again, and gallops away in another cloud of steam.


Mr. Jarndyce, the only person up in the house, is just going to bed, rises from his book on hearing the rapid ringing at the bell, and comes down to the door in his dressing-gown.

Mr. Jarndyce, the only person up in the house, is just going to bed when he hears the rapid ringing at the bell, and comes down to the door in his dressing-gown.


In a moment his visitor is confidential with him in the hall, has shut the door, and stands with his hand upon the lock.

In a moment his visitor is in the hall, has shut the door, and stands with his hand upon the lock.


"I've had the pleasure of seeing you before.


Look at that handkerchief, sir, Miss Esther Summerson's.

Look at this handkerchief, sir, Miss Esther Summerson's.


Found it myself put away in a drawer of Lady Dedlock's, quarter of an hour ago.


"There has been a discovery there to-day.

"There has been a discovery there today.


Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet, has had a fit--apoplexy or paralysis--and couldn't be brought to, and precious time has been lost.

Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet, has had a fit - apoplexy or paralysis - and precious time has been lost.


Lady Dedlock disappeared this afternoon and left a letter for him that looks bad.


Mr. Jarndyce, having read it, asks him what he thinks.


Anyways, there's more and more danger, every minute, of its drawing to that.

Anyways, there's more danger of that, every minute.


I'd give a hundred pound an hour to have got the start of the present time.


Now, Mr. Jarndyce, I am employed by Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet, to follow her and find her, to save her and take her his forgiveness.


I have money and full power, but I want something else.

I have money, but I want something else.


Mr. Jarndyce in a troubled voice repeats, "Miss Summerson?"


"Now, Mr. Jarndyce"--Mr. Bucket has read his face with the greatest attention all along--"I speak to you as a gentleman of a humane heart, and under such pressing circumstances as don't often happen.

"Now, Mr. Jarndyce" - Mr. Bucket has read his face with the greatest attention - "I speak to you as a humane gentleman.


If ever delay was dangerous, it's dangerous now; and if ever you couldn't afterwards forgive yourself for causing it, this is the time.

If ever delay was dangerous, it's dangerous now.


Eight or ten hours, worth, as I tell you, a hundred pound apiece at least, have been lost since Lady Dedlock disappeared.

Eight or ten hours have been lost since Lady Dedlock disappeared.


Besides all the rest that's heavy on her, she has upon her, as she believes, suspicion of murder.


If I follow her alone, she, being in ignorance of what Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet, has communicated to me, may be driven to desperation.

If I follow her alone, she may be driven to desperation.


But if I follow her in company with a young lady, answering to the description of a young lady that she has a tenderness for--I ask no question, and I say no more than that--she will give me credit for being friendly.

But if I follow her in company with a young lady that she has a tenderness for - I ask no question, and I say no more than that - she will give me credit for being friendly.


Let me come up with her and be able to have the hold upon her of putting that young lady for'ard, and I'll save her and prevail with her if she is alive.


Let me come up with her alone--a hard matter--and I'll do my best, but I don't answer for what the best may be.


Time flies; it's getting on for one o'clock."


When one strikes, there's another hour gone, and it's worth a thousand pound now instead of a hundred."


This is all true, and the pressing nature of the case cannot be questioned.


Mr. Jarndyce begs him to remain there while he speaks to Miss Summerson.


Mr. Bucket says he will, but acting on his usual principle, does no such thing, following upstairs instead and keeping his man in sight.

Mr. Bucket says he will, but does no such thing, following upstairs instead and keeping his man in sight.


So he remains, dodging and lurking about in the gloom of the staircase while they confer.

He lurks in the gloom of the staircase while they confer.


In a very little time Mr. Jarndyce comes down and tells him that Miss Summerson will join him directly and place herself under his protection to accompany him where he pleases.

Mr. Jarndyce comes down and tells him that Miss Summerson will join him directly and will accompany him where he pleases.


Mr. Bucket, satisfied, expresses high approval and awaits her coming at the door.


There he mounts a high tower in his mind and looks out far and wide.


Many solitary figures he perceives creeping through the streets; many solitary figures out on heaths, and roads, and lying under haystacks.

Many solitary figures he perceives creeping through the streets; many solitary figures out on heaths, and lying under haystacks.


But the figure that he seeks is not among them.


Other solitaries he perceives, in nooks of bridges, looking over; and in shadowed places down by the river's level; and a dark, dark, shapeless object drifting with the tide, more solitary than all, clings with a drowning hold on his attention.

Other solitaries he imagines, looking over bridges; and in shadowed places down by the river; and a dark, dark, shapeless object drifting with the tide, more solitary than all, clings with a drowning hold on his attention.


If, as he folds the handkerchief and carefully puts it up, it were able with an enchanted power to bring before him the place where she found it and the night-landscape near the cottage where it covered the little child, would he descry her there?


On the waste where the brick-kilns are burning with a pale blue flare, where the straw-roofs of the wretched huts in which the bricks are made are being scattered by the wind, where the clay and water are hard frozen and the mill in which the gaunt blind horse goes round all day looks like an instrument of human torture--traversing this deserted, blighted spot there is a lonely figure with the sad world to itself, pelted by the snow and driven by the wind, and cast out, it would seem, from all companionship.

On the waste where the brick-kilns are burning with a pale blue flare, where the clay and water are hard frozen and the mill in which the gaunt blind horse goes round all day looks like an instrument of torture - traversing this deserted, blighted spot there is a lonely figure with the sad world to itself, pelted by the snow and driven by the wind.


It is the figure of a woman, too; but it is miserably dressed, and no such clothes ever came through the hall and out at the great door of the Dedlock mansion.

It is the figure of a woman; but it is miserably dressed, and no such clothes ever came through the hall of the great Dedlock mansion.


As Allan Woodcourt and Jo proceed along the streets where the high church spires and the distances are so near and clear in the morning light that the city itself seems renewed by rest, Allan revolves in his mind how and where he shall bestow his companion.

As Allan Woodcourt and Jo proceed along the streets in the morning light, Allan revolves in his mind where he shall bestow his companion.


"It surely is a strange fact," he considers, "that in the heart of a civilized world this creature in human form should be more difficult to dispose of than an unowned dog."


But it is none the less a fact because of its strangeness, and the difficulty remains.


At first he looks behind him often to assure himself that Jo is still really following.

He looks behind him often to assure himself that Jo is still following


But look where he will, he still beholds him close to the opposite houses, making his way with his wary hand from brick to brick and from door to door, and often, as he creeps along, glancing over at him watchfully.

, and sees him making his way with his wary hand from brick to brick and from door to door.


Soon satisfied that the last thing in his thoughts is to give him the slip, Allan goes on, considering with a less divided attention what he shall do.


A breakfast-stall at a street-corner suggests the first thing to be done.


He stops there, looks round, and beckons Jo.


Jo crosses and comes halting and shuffling up, slowly scooping the knuckles of his right hand round and round in the hollowed palm of his left, kneading dirt with a natural pestle and mortar.

who comes shuffling up, slowly scooping the knuckles of his right hand round and round in the hollowed palm of his left, like a dirty pestle and mortar.


What is a dainty repast to Jo is then set before him, and he begins to gulp the coffee and to gnaw the bread and butter, looking anxiously about him in all directions as he eats and drinks, like a scared animal.

When food is set before him, he begins to gulp the coffee and to gnaw the bread and butter, looking anxiously about in all directions, like a scared animal.


But he is so sick and miserable that even hunger has abandoned him.


"I thought I was amost a-starvin, sir," says Jo, soon putting down his food, "but I don't know nothink--not even that.


I don't care for eating wittles nor yet for drinking on 'em."


And Jo stands shivering and looking at the breakfast wonderingly.

And he stands shivering and looking at the breakfast wonderingly.


Allan Woodcourt lays his hand upon his pulse and on his chest.


"It draws," says Jo, "as heavy as a cart."


He might add, "And rattles like it," but he only mutters, "I'm a-moving on, sir."


Allan looks about for an apothecary's shop.

Allan Woodcourt looks about for an apothecary's shop.


There is none at hand, but a tavern does as well or better.


He obtains a little measure of wine and gives the lad a portion of it very carefully.

he obtains a little measure of wine and gives the lad some of it.


He begins to revive almost as soon as it passes his lips.

Jo begins to revive almost as soon as it passes his lips.


"We may repeat that dose, Jo," observes Allan after watching him with his attentive face.

"We may repeat that dose, Jo," observes Allan.


Now we will take five minutes' rest, and then go on again."


Leaving the boy sitting on the bench of the breakfast-stall, with his back against an iron railing, Allan Woodcourt paces up and down in the early sunshine, casting an occasional look towards him without appearing to watch him.

As he sits on the bench in the pale sunshine,


It requires no discernment to perceive that he is warmed and refreshed.


If a face so shaded can brighten, his face brightens somewhat; and by little and little he eats the slice of bread he had so hopelessly laid down.

Jo's face brightens somewhat; and by little and little he eats the slice of bread he had laid down.


Observant of these signs of improvement, Allan engages him in conversation and elicits to his no small wonder the adventure of the lady in the veil, with all its consequences.

Seeing these signs of improvement, Allan talks to him and hears to his wonder the adventure of the lady in the veil.


Jo slowly munches as he slowly tells it.


When he has finished his story and his bread, they go on again.


Intending to refer his difficulty in finding a temporary place of refuge for the boy to his old patient, zealous little Miss Flite, Allan leads the way to the court where he and Jo first foregathered.

Hoping to find a temporary place of refuge for the boy with his old patient, zealous little Miss Flite, Allan leads the way to the court where he and Jo first met.


But all is changed at the rag and bottle shop; Miss Flite no longer lodges there; it is shut up; and a hard-featured female, much obscured by dust, whose age is a problem, but who is indeed no other than the interesting Judy, is tart and spare in her replies.

But all is changed at the rag and bottle shop; Miss Flite no longer lodges there; it is shut up; and a hard-featured female, no other than Judy, is tart and spare in her replies.


These sufficing, however, to inform the visitor that Miss Flite and her birds are domiciled with a Mrs. Blinder, in Bell Yard, he repairs to that neighbouring place, where Miss Flite (who rises early that she may be punctual at the divan of justice held by her excellent friend the Chancellor) comes running downstairs with tears of welcome and with open arms.

These inform the visitor that Miss Flite and her birds are lodging with a Mrs. Blinder, in Bell Yard. Allan goes to that place, where Miss Flite comes running downstairs with tears of welcome and with open arms.


"My meritorious, distinguished, honourable officer!"


She uses some odd expressions, but is as cordial and full of heart as sanity itself can be--more so than it often is.


Allan, very patient with her, waits until she has no more raptures to express, then points out Jo, trembling in a doorway, and tells her how he comes there.

Allan patiently waits until she has no more raptures to express, then points out Jo, trembling in a doorway, and tells her how he comes there.


"Where can I lodge him hereabouts for the present?


Now, you have a fund of knowledge and good sense and can advise me."

You have a fund of knowledge and good sense and can advise me."


Miss Flite, mighty proud of the compliment, sets herself to consider; but it is long before a bright thought occurs to her.

Miss Flite, mighty proud of the compliment, considers.


Mrs. Blinder is entirely let, and she herself occupies poor Gridley's room.


exclaims Miss Flite, clapping her hands after a twentieth repetition of this remark.

exclaims Miss Flite, clapping her hands.


It is hopeless to ask for any information about General George, and would be, though Miss Flite had not already run upstairs to put on her pinched bonnet and her poor little shawl and to arm herself with her reticule of documents.

It is hopeless to ask for any information about General George, as Miss Flite has already run upstairs to put on her pinched bonnet and her poor little shawl and to arm herself with her reticule of documents.


But as she informs her physician in her disjointed manner on coming down in full array that General George, whom she often calls upon, knows her dear Fitz Jarndyce and takes a great interest in all connected with her, Allan is induced to think that they may be in the right way.

But as she informs her physician that General George knows her dear Fitz Jarndyce and takes a great interest in her, Allan thinks that they may be in the right way.


So he tells Jo, for his encouragement, that this walking about will soon be over now; and they repair to the general's.

So he tells Jo that this walking about will soon be over.


Fortunately the general's shooting gallery is not far.


From the exterior of George's Shooting Gallery, and the long entry, and the bare perspective beyond it, Allan Woodcourt augurs well.

From its exterior, Allan Woodcourt augurs well.


He also descries promise in the figure of Mr. George himself, striding towards them in his morning exercise with his pipe in his mouth, no stock on, and his muscular arms, developed by broadsword and dumbbell, weightily asserting themselves through his light shirt-sleeves.

He also sees promise in the figure of Mr. George himself, striding towards them with his pipe in his mouth, and his muscular arms weightily asserting themselves through his light shirt-sleeves.


"Your servant, sir," says Mr. George with a military salute.


Good-humouredly smiling all over his broad forehead up into his crisp hair, he then defers to Miss Flite, as, with great stateliness, and at some length, she performs the courtly ceremony of presentation.

Good-humouredly smiling, he then defers to Miss Flite, as, with great stateliness, she performs the ceremony of introduction.


He winds it up with another "Your servant, sir!"


"I am proud to find I have the air of one," returns Allan; "but I am only a sea-going doctor."


I should have thought you was a regular blue-jacket myself."


Allan hopes Mr. George will forgive his intrusion the more readily on that account, and particularly that he will not lay aside his pipe, which, in his politeness, he has testified some intention of doing.


"You are very good, sir," returns the trooper.


"As I know by experience that it's not disagreeable to Miss Flite, and since it's equally agreeable to yourself--" and finishes the sentence by putting it between his lips again.


Allan proceeds to tell him all he knows about Jo, unto which the trooper listens with a grave face.

He proceeds to tell him all he knows about Jo, to which the trooper listens with a grave face.


he inquires, looking along the entry to where Jo stands staring up at the great letters on the whitewashed front, which have no meaning in his eyes.


"And, Mr. George, I am in this difficulty about him.


I am unwilling to place him in a hospital, even if I could procure him immediate admission, because I foresee that he would not stay there many hours if he could be so much as got there.

"I am unwilling to place him in a hospital, because I foresee that he would not stay there long even if he could be got there.


The same objection applies to a workhouse, supposing I had the patience to be evaded and shirked, and handed about from post to pillar in trying to get him into one, which is a system that I don't take kindly to."

The same objection applies to a workhouse, which is a system that I don't take kindly to."


"I am convinced that he would not remain in either place, because he is possessed by an extraordinary terror of this person who ordered him to keep out of the way; in his ignorance, he believes this person to be everywhere, and cognizant of everything."

"I am convinced that he would not remain in either place, because he is possessed by an extraordinary terror of this person who ordered him to keep out of the way; he believes this person to be everywhere."


"I ask your pardon, sir," says Mr. George.


"But you have not mentioned that party's name.


"The man is known to me, sir," returns the trooper after blowing out a cloud of smoke and squaring his chest, "and the boy is so far correct that he undoubtedly is a--rum customer."

"The man is known to me, sir," returns the trooper, "and he undoubtedly is a - rum customer."


Mr. George smokes with a profound meaning after this and surveys Miss Flite in silence.


"Now, I wish Mr. Jarndyce and Miss Summerson at least to know that this Jo, who tells so strange a story, has reappeared, and to have it in their power to speak with him if they should desire to do so.

"Now, I wish Mr. Jarndyce and Miss Summerson to know that Jo has reappeared, and to be able to speak with him if they should wish.


Therefore I want to get him, for the present moment, into any poor lodging kept by decent people where he would be admitted.

Therefore I want to get him into any poor lodging kept by decent people.


Decent people and Jo, Mr. George," says Allan, following the direction of the trooper's eyes along the entry, "have not been much acquainted, as you see.

Decent people and Jo, Mr. George," says Allan, "have not been much acquainted, as you see.


Do you happen to know any one in this neighbourhood who would receive him for a while on my paying for him beforehand?"

Do you happen to know anyone in this neighbourhood who would receive him for a while on my paying for him beforehand?"


As he puts the question, he becomes aware of a dirty-faced little man standing at the trooper's elbow and looking up, with an oddly twisted figure and countenance, into the trooper's face.

As he asks, he becomes aware of a little man standing at the trooper's elbow and looking up, with an oddly twisted figure and countenance, into the trooper's face.


After a few more puffs at his pipe, the trooper looks down askant at the little man, and the little man winks up at the trooper.

After a few more puffs at his pipe, the trooper looks down at the little man, who winks.


"Well, sir," says Mr. George, "I can assure you that I would willingly be knocked on the head at any time if it would be at all agreeable to Miss Summerson, and consequently I esteem it a privilege to do that young lady any service, however small.

"Well, sir," says Mr. George, "I can assure you that I would willingly be knocked on the head at any time if it would be at all agreeable to Miss Summerson, and would do that young lady any service, however small.


We are naturally in the vagabond way here, sir, both myself and Phil.

We are naturally in the vagabond way here, sir, myself and Phil.


You are welcome to a quiet corner of it for the boy if the same would meet your views.

You are welcome to a quiet corner of it for the boy.


We are not in a flourishing state of circumstances here, sir.


We are liable to be tumbled out neck and crop at a moment's notice.

; we are liable to be tumbled out at a moment's notice.


However, sir, such as the place is, and so long as it lasts, here it is at your service."

However, sir, such as the place is, and so long as it lasts, it is at your service.


With a comprehensive wave of his pipe, Mr. George places the whole building at his visitor's disposal.


"I take it for granted, sir," he adds, "you being one of the medical staff, that there is no present infection about this unfortunate subject?"

I take it for granted, sir," he adds, "that there is no present infection about this unfortunate subject?"


"Because, sir," says Mr. George, shaking his head sorrowfully, "we have had enough of that."


His tone is no less sorrowfully echoed by his new acquaintance.


"Still I am bound to tell you," observes Allan after repeating his former assurance, "that the boy is deplorably low and reduced and that he may be--I do not say that he is--too far gone to recover."

"Still I am bound to tell you," he adds, "that the boy is deplorably low and that he may be too far gone to recover."


"Do you consider him in present danger, sir?"


"Then, sir," returns the trooper in a decisive manner, "it appears to me--being naturally in the vagabond way myself--that the sooner he comes out of the street, the better.

"Then, sir," returns the trooper decisively, "the sooner he comes out of the street, the better.


Mr. Squod tacks out, all on one side, to execute the word of command; and the trooper, having smoked his pipe, lays it by.

Mr. Squod tacks out on one side to do so; and


He is not one of Mrs. Pardiggle's Tockahoopo Indians; he is not one of Mrs. Jellyby's lambs, being wholly unconnected with Borrioboola-Gha; he is not softened by distance and unfamiliarity; he is not a genuine foreign-grown savage; he is the ordinary home-made article.

He is not one of Mrs. Jellyby's lambs of Borrioboola-Gha; he is not softened by distance and unfamiliarity; he is the ordinary home-made article.


Dirty, ugly, disagreeable to all the senses, in body a common creature of the common streets, only in soul a heathen.


Homely filth begrimes him, homely parasites devour him, homely sores are in him, homely rags are on him; native ignorance, the growth of English soil and climate, sinks his immortal nature lower than the beasts that perish.

; homely filth begrimes him, homely parasites devour him, homely rags are on him; native ignorance sinks his immortal nature lower than the beasts.


Stand forth, Jo, in uncompromising colours!


From the sole of thy foot to the crown of thy head, there is nothing interesting about thee.


He shuffles slowly into Mr. George's gallery and stands huddled together in a bundle, looking all about the floor.

He shuffles slowly into Mr. George's gallery and stands huddled, looking all about the floor.


He seems to know that they have an inclination to shrink from him, partly for what he is and partly for what he has caused.


He is not of the same order of things, not of the same place in creation.


He is of no order and no place, neither of the beasts nor of humanity.


Jo searches the floor for some time longer, then looks up for a moment, and then down again.

Jo looks up for a moment, and then down again.


"He is a kind friend to you, for he is going to give you lodging room here."


Jo makes a scoop with one hand, which is supposed to be a bow.


After a little more consideration and some backing and changing of the foot on which he rests, he mutters that he is "wery thankful."

After some backing and changing of the foot on which he rests, he mutters that he is "wery thankful."


All you have to do at present is to be obedient and to get strong.

All you have to do at present is to get strong.


And mind you tell us the truth here, whatever you do, Jo."

And mind you tell us the truth here, Jo."


"Wishermaydie if I don't, sir," says Jo, reverting to his favourite declaration.

"Wishermaydie if I don't, sir," says Jo.


"I never done nothink yit, but wot you knows on, to get myself into no trouble.


I never was in no other trouble at all, sir, 'sept not knowin' nothink and starwation."

"I never was in no trouble at all, sir, 'sept not knowin' nothink and starwation."


"I believe it, now attend to Mr. George.


"My intention merely was, sir," observes Mr. George, amazingly broad and upright, "to point out to him where he can lie down and get a thorough good dose of sleep.


As the trooper speaks, he conducts them to the other end of the gallery and opens one of the little cabins.

He leads them to the other end of the gallery and opens one of the little cabins.


Here is a mattress, and here you may rest, on good behaviour, as long as Mr., I ask your pardon, sir"--he refers apologetically to the card Allan has given him--"Mr. Woodcourt pleases.

"Here is a mattress, and here you may rest.


Don't you be alarmed if you hear shots; they'll be aimed at the target, and not you.


Now, there's another thing I would recommend, sir," says the trooper, turning to his visitor.


Phil bears down upon them according to his usual tactics.

Phil bears down upon them in his usual manner.


"Here is a man, sir, who was found, when a baby, in the gutter.


Consequently, it is to be expected that he takes a natural interest in this poor creature.

Consequently, he takes a natural interest in this poor creature


"Certainly and surely I do, guv'ner," is Phil's reply.


"Now I was thinking, sir," says Mr. George in a martial sort of confidence, as if he were giving his opinion in a council of war at a drum-head, "that if this man was to take him to a bath and was to lay out a few shillings in getting him one or two coarse articles--"

"Now I was thinking, sir," says Mr. George, "that if this man was to take him to a bath and was to lay out a few shillings in getting him some clothing-"


"Mr. George, my considerate friend," returns Allan, taking out his purse, "it is the very favour I would have asked."

"Mr. George," returns Allan, taking out his purse, "it is the very favour I would have asked."


Phil Squod and Jo are sent out immediately on this work of improvement.


Miss Flite, quite enraptured by her success, makes the best of her way to court, having great fears that otherwise her friend the Chancellor may be uneasy about her or may give the judgment she has so long expected in her absence, and observing "which you know, my dear physician, and general, after so many years, would be too absurdly unfortunate!"

Miss Flite, quite enraptured by her success, returns to her court, having great fears that her friend the Chancellor may give the judgment she has so long expected in her absence.


Allan takes the opportunity of going out to procure some restorative medicines, and obtaining them near at hand, soon returns to find the trooper walking up and down the gallery, and to fall into step and walk with him.

Allan goes out to buy some medicines, and returns to find the trooper walking up and down the gallery. Falling into step, he walks with him.


"I take it, sir," says Mr. George, "that you know Miss Summerson pretty well?"


"Excuse the apparent curiosity," says Mr. George.

"Excuse the curiosity," says Mr. George.


"It seemed to me probable that you might take more than a common interest in this poor creature because Miss Summerson had taken that unfortunate interest in him.

"I thought you might take an interest in this poor creature because Miss Summerson had taken an interest in him.


The trooper looks sideways at Allan's sunburnt cheek and bright dark eye, rapidly measures his height and build, and seems to approve of him.

The trooper looks sideways at Allan's sunburnt cheek and bright dark eye, and seems to approve of him.


"Since you have been out, sir, I have been thinking that I unquestionably know the rooms in Lincoln's Inn Fields, where Bucket took the lad, according to his account.

"Since you have been out, sir, I have been thinking that I know the rooms in Lincoln's Inn Fields, where Bucket took the lad, according to his account.


Though he is not acquainted with the name, I can help you to it.


Allan looks at him inquiringly, repeating the name.


I know the man, and know him to have been in communication with Bucket before, respecting a deceased person who had given him offence.


Allan naturally asks what kind of man he is.


"Why, then I'll tell you, sir," returns the trooper, stopping short and folding his arms on his square chest so angrily that his face fires and flushes all over; "he is a confoundedly bad kind of man.

The trooper folds his arms on his square chest so angrily that his face flushes all over. "He is a confoundedly bad kind of man.


He is no more like flesh and blood than a rusty old carbine is.


He is a kind of man--by George!--that has caused me more restlessness, and more uneasiness, and more dissatisfaction with myself than all other men put together.

He has caused me more restlessness and uneasiness and dissatisfaction with myself than all other men put together!"


That's the kind of man Mr. Tulkinghorn is!"


"I am sorry," says Allan, "to have touched so sore a place."


The trooper plants his legs wider apart, wets the palm of his broad right hand, and lays it on the imaginary moustache.

The trooper plants his legs wider apart.


"It's no fault of yours, sir; but you shall judge.


He is the man I spoke of just now as being able to tumble me out of this place neck and crop.

He is the man I spoke of just now as being able to tumble me out of this place.


He won't hold off, and he won't come on.


If I have a payment to make him, or time to ask him for, or anything to go to him about, he don't see me, don't hear me--passes me on to Melchisedech's in Clifford's Inn, Melchisedech's in Clifford's Inn passes me back again to him--he keeps me prowling and dangling about him as if I was made of the same stone as himself.

If I have a payment to make him, he don't see me - passes me on to Melchisedech's in Clifford's Inn. Melchisedech's passes me back again to him.


Why, I spend half my life now, pretty well, loitering and dodging about his door.

Why, I spend half my life now loitering and dodging about his door.


Just as much as the rusty old carbine I have compared him to.


Mr. Woodcourt," the trooper resumes his march, "all I say is, he is an old man; but I am glad I shall never have the chance of setting spurs to my horse and riding at him in a fair field.

Mr. Woodcourt," says the trooper; "but I am glad I shall never have the chance of setting spurs to my horse and riding at him in a fair field.


For if I had that chance, in one of the humours he drives me into--he'd go down, sir!"

For if I had that chance - he'd go down, sir!"


Mr. George has been so excited that he finds it necessary to wipe his forehead on his shirt-sleeve.

Mr. George wipes his forehead on his shirt-sleeve


Even while he whistles his impetuosity away with the national anthem, some involuntary shakings of his head and heavings of his chest still linger behind, not to mention an occasional hasty adjustment with both hands of his open shirt-collar, as if it were scarcely open enough to prevent his being troubled by a choking sensation.

, and whistles his impetuosity away with the national anthem, but some shakings of his head and heavings of his chest still linger.


In short, Allan Woodcourt has not much doubt about the going down of Mr. Tulkinghorn on the field referred to.


Jo and his conductor presently return, and Jo is assisted to his mattress by the careful Phil, to whom, after due administration of medicine by his own hands, Allan confides all needful means and instructions.

Jo and Phil presently return, and the careful Phil helps Jo to his bed. To him Allan confides all needful instructions.


The morning is by this time getting on apace.


He repairs to his lodgings to dress and breakfast, and then, without seeking rest, goes away to Mr. Jarndyce to communicate his discovery.

Then he repairs to his lodgings to dress and breakfast, and without seeking rest, goes away to Mr. Jarndyce to communicate his discovery.


With him Mr. Jarndyce returns alone, confidentially telling him that there are reasons for keeping this matter very quiet indeed and showing a serious interest in it.

Mr. Jarndyce returns with him, confidentially telling him that there are reasons for keeping this matter very quiet.


To Mr. Jarndyce, Jo repeats in substance what he said in the morning, without any material variation.

To Mr. Jarndyce, Jo repeats what he said in the morning, without any variation.


Only that cart of his is heavier to draw, and draws with a hollower sound.


"Let me lay here quiet and not be chivied no more," falters Jo, "and be so kind any person as is a-passin nigh where I used fur to sleep, as jist to say to Mr. Sangsby that Jo, wot he known once, is a-moving on right forards with his duty, and I'll be wery thankful.

"Let me lay here quiet and not be chivied no more," falters Jo, "and be so kind as jist to say to Mr. Sangsby that Jo, wot he known once, is a-moving on right forards with his duty, and I'll be wery thankful."


I'd be more thankful than I am aready if it wos any ways possible for an unfortnet to be it."


He makes so many of these references to the law-stationer in the course of a day or two that Allan, after conferring with Mr. Jarndyce, good-naturedly resolves to call in Cook's Court, the rather, as the cart seems to be breaking down.

He makes so many of these references to the law-stationer over a day or two that Allan, after conferring with Mr. Jarndyce, good-naturedly resolves to call in Cook's Court.


Mr. Snagsby is behind his counter in his grey coat and sleeves, inspecting an indenture of several skins which has just come in from the engrosser's, an immense desert of law-hand and parchment, with here and there a resting-place of a few large letters to break the awful monotony and save the traveller from despair.

finds Mr. Snagsby behind his counter in his grey coat and sleeves, inspecting an immense desert of parchment.


Mr Snagsby puts up at one of these inky wells and greets the stranger with his cough of general preparation for business.

Mr. Snagsby greets the stranger with his cough of business.


The stationer's heart begins to thump heavily, for his old apprehensions have never abated.

The stationer's heart begins to thump heavily.


It is as much as he can do to answer, "No, sir, I can't say I do.

It is all he can do to answer, "No, sir, I can't say I do.


I should have considered--not to put too fine a point upon it--that I never saw you before, sir."

I don't think that I ever saw you before, sir."


thinks the afflicted stationer, as recollection breaks upon him.


"It's got to a head now and is going to burst!"


But he has sufficient presence of mind to conduct his visitor into the little counting-house and to shut the door.


"Would you make the attempt, though single," says Mr. Snagsby in a melancholy whisper, "to speak as low as you can?

"Would you make the attempt," says Mr. Snagsby in a melancholy whisper, "to speak as low as you can?


For my little woman is a-listening somewheres, or I'll forfeit the business and five hundred pound!"

For my little woman is a-listening somewheres!


In deep dejection Mr. Snagsby sits down on his stool, with his back against his desk, protesting, "I never had a secret of my own, sir.


I can't charge my memory with ever having once attempted to deceive my little woman on my own account since she named the day.

I have never once attempted to deceive my little woman since she named the day.


Not to put too fine a point upon it, I couldn't have done it, I dursn't have done it.


Whereas, and nevertheless, I find myself wrapped round with secrecy and mystery, till my life is a burden to me."

Whereas, nevertheless, I find myself wrapped round with secrecy and mystery, till my life is a burden to me."


His visitor professes his regret to hear it and asks him does he remember Jo.


Mr. Snagsby answers with a suppressed groan, oh, don't he!


"You couldn't name an individual human being--except myself--that my little woman is more set and determined against than Jo," says Mr. Snagsby.

"You couldn't name a human being - except myself - that my little woman is more set against than Jo," says Mr. Snagsby.


repeats Mr. Snagsby, in his desperation clutching at the clump of hair at the back of his bald head.


But you are a single person, sir, and may you long be spared to ask a married person such a question!"


With this beneficent wish, Mr. Snagsby coughs a cough of dismal resignation and submits himself to hear what the visitor has to communicate.


says Mr. Snagsby, who, between the earnestness of his feelings and the suppressed tones of his voice is discoloured in the face.


A certain person charges me, in the solemnest way, not to talk of Jo to any one, even my little woman.

A certain person charges me, in the solemnest way, not to talk of Jo to anyone, even my little woman.


Then comes another certain person, in the person of yourself, and charges me, in an equally solemn way, not to mention Jo to that other certain person above all other persons.

Then comes another certain person, in the person of yourself, and charges me, in an equally solemn way, not to mention Jo to that other certain person.


Why, not to put too fine a point upon it, this is Bedlam, sir!"


But it is better than he expected after all, being no explosion of the mine below him or deepening of the pit into which he has fallen.


And being tender-hearted and affected by the account he hears of Jo's condition, he readily engages to "look round" as early in the evening as he can manage it quietly.

But being tender-hearted and affected by the account he hears of Jo's condition, he readily engages to call round early in the evening if he can manage it quietly.


He looks round very quietly when the evening comes, but it may turn out that Mrs. Snagsby is as quiet a manager as he.

He calls round when the evening comes, but it may turn out that Mrs. Snagsby is as quiet a manager as he.


Jo is very glad to see his old friend and says, when they are left alone, that he takes it uncommon kind as Mr. Sangsby should come so far out of his way on accounts of sich as him.

Jo is very glad to see his old friend and says it is uncommon kind of Mr. Sangsby to come so far out of his way on accounts of sich as him.


Mr. Snagsby, touched by the spectacle before him, immediately lays upon the table half a crown, that magic balsam of his for all kinds of wounds.

Mr. Snagsby, touched, immediately lays upon the table half a crown, that magic balsam of his for all kinds of wounds.


"And how do you find yourself, my poor lad?"


inquires the stationer with his cough of sympathy.


"I am in luck, Mr. Sangsby, I am," returns Jo, "and don't want for nothink.


I'm wery sorry that I done it, but I didn't go fur to do it, sir."


The stationer softly lays down another half-crown and asks him what it is that he is sorry for having done.

The stationer softly lays down another half-crown and asks him what he is sorry for having done.


"Mr. Sangsby," says Jo, "I went and giv a illness to the lady as wos and yit as warn't the t'other lady, and none of 'em never says nothink to me for having done it, on accounts of their being ser good and my having been s'unfortnet.

"Mr. Sangsby," says Jo, "I went and giv a illness to the lady as wos and yit as warn't the t'other lady, and none of 'em never says nothink to me for having done it, on accounts of their being ser good.


The lady come herself and see me yesday, and she ses, 'Ah, Jo!'


And she sits down a-smilin so quiet, and don't pass a word nor yit a look upon me for having done it, she don't, and I turns agin the wall, I doos, Mr. Sangsby.

And she sits down a-smilin so quiet, and don't pass a word upon me for having done it, she don't, and I turns agin the wall, I doos, Mr. Sangsby.


And Mr. Jarnders, I see him a-forced to turn away his own self.

And Mr. Jarnders, I see him a-forced to turn away hisself.


And Mr. Woodcot, he come fur to giv me somethink fur to ease me, wot he's allus a-doin' on day and night, and wen he come a-bending over me and a-speakin up so bold, I see his tears a-fallin, Mr. Sangsby."

And Mr. Woodcot, he come fur to giv me somethink fur to ease me, wot he's allus a-doin' day and night, and wen he come a-bending over me, I see his tears a-fallin, Mr. Sangsby."


The softened stationer deposits another half-crown on the table.


Nothing less than a repetition of that infallible remedy will relieve his feelings.


"Wot I was a-thinkin on, Mr. Sangsby," proceeds Jo, "wos, as you wos able to write wery large, p'raps?"


"Yes, Jo, please God," returns the stationer.


"Wot I wos a-thinking on then, Mr. Sangsby, wos, that when I wos moved on as fur as ever I could go and couldn't be moved no furder, whether you might be so good p'raps as to write out, wery large so that any one could see it anywheres, as that I wos wery truly hearty sorry that I done it and that I never went fur to do it, and that though I didn't know nothink at all, I knowd as Mr. Woodcot once cried over it and wos allus grieved over it, and that I hoped as he'd be able to forgive me in his mind.

"Wot I wos a-thinking then, Mr. Sangsby, wos, that when I wos moved on as fur as ever I could, whether you might be so good p'raps as to write out, wery large so that anyone could see it anywheres, as that I wos wery truly hearty sorry that I done it and that I never went fur to do it, and that though I didn't know nothink at all, I knowd as Mr. Woodcot wos allus grieved over it, and that I hoped as he'd be able to forgive me.


If the writin could be made to say it wery large, he might."


It's wery kind of you, sir, and it makes me more cumfbler nor I was afore."


The meek little stationer, with a broken and unfinished cough, slips down his fourth half-crown--he has never been so close to a case requiring so many--and is fain to depart.

The meek little stationer, with a broken and unfinished cough, slips down his fourth half-crown - and departs.


And Jo and he, upon this little earth, shall meet no more.


For the cart so hard to draw is near its journey's end and drags over stony ground.


All round the clock it labours up the broken steps, shattered and worn.

It labours up the broken steps, shattered and worn.


Not many times can the sun rise and behold it still upon its weary road.


Phil Squod, with his smoky gunpowder visage, at once acts as nurse and works as armourer at his little table in a corner, often looking round and saying with a nod of his green-baize cap and an encouraging elevation of his one eyebrow, "Hold up, my boy!

Phil Squod, with his smoky gunpowder visage, both acts as nurse and works as armourer at his little table in a corner, often looking round and saying with a nod of his green-baize cap, "Hold up, my boy!


There, too, is Mr. Jarndyce many a time, and Allan Woodcourt almost always, both thinking, much, how strangely fate has entangled this rough outcast in the web of very different lives.

There, too, is Mr. Jarndyce many a time, and Allan Woodcourt almost always, both thinking how strangely fate has entangled this rough outcast in the web of very different lives.


There, too, the trooper is a frequent visitor, filling the doorway with his athletic figure and, from his superfluity of life and strength, seeming to shed down temporary vigour upon Jo, who never fails to speak more robustly in answer to his cheerful words.

The trooper is a frequent visitor, filling the doorway with his athletic figure and seeming to shed down temporary vigour upon Jo, who never fails to speak more robustly in answer to his cheerful words.


Jo is in a sleep or in a stupor to-day, and Allan Woodcourt, newly arrived, stands by him, looking down upon his wasted form.

Jo is in a sleep or in a stupor today, and Allan Woodcourt, newly arrived, stands by him, looking down upon his wasted form.


After a while he softly seats himself upon the bedside with his face towards him--just as he sat in the law-writer's room--and touches his chest and heart.

After a while he softly sits upon the bedside and touches his chest and heart.


The cart had very nearly given up, but labours on a little more.

The cart has very nearly given up, but labours on a little more.


The trooper stands in the doorway, still and silent.


Phil has stopped in a low clinking noise, with his little hammer in his hand.

Phil has stopped with his hammer in his hand.


Mr. Woodcourt looks round with that grave professional interest and attention on his face, and glancing significantly at the trooper, signs to Phil to carry his table out.

Mr. Woodcourt looks round, and glancing significantly at the trooper, signs to Phil to carry his table out.


When the little hammer is next used, there will be a speck of rust upon it.

When the hammer is next used, there will be a speck of rust upon it.


"I thought," says Jo, who has started and is looking round, "I thought I was in Tom-all-Alone's agin.


Ain't there nobody here but you, Mr. Woodcot?"


"And I ain't took back to Tom-all-Alone's.


Jo closes his eyes, muttering, "I'm wery thankful."


After watching him closely a little while, Allan puts his mouth very near his ear and says to him in a low, distinct voice, "Jo!

After watching him closely a little while, Allan puts his mouth very near his ear and says low to him, "Jo!


Mr. Chadbands he wos a-prayin wunst at Mr. Sangsby's and I heerd him, but he sounded as if he wos a-speakin to hisself, and not to me.

Mr. Chadband he wos a-prayin wunst at Mr. Sangsby's, but he sounded as if he wos a-speakin to hisself, and not to me.


He prayed a lot, but I couldn't make out nothink on it.


Different times there was other genlmen come down Tom-all-Alone's a-prayin, but they all mostly sed as the t'other 'wuns prayed wrong, and all mostly sounded to be a-talking to theirselves, or a-passing blame on the t'others, and not a-talkin to us.


It takes him a long time to say this, and few but an experienced and attentive listener could hear, or, hearing, understand him.


After a short relapse into sleep or stupor, he makes, of a sudden, a strong effort to get out of bed.

After a short relapse into sleep or stupor, he makes a sudden, strong effort to get out of bed.


"It's time for me to go to that there berryin ground, sir," he returns with a wild look.


"Where they laid him as wos wery good to me, wery good to me indeed, he wos.


It's time fur me to go down to that there berryin ground, sir, and ask to be put along with him.


He used fur to say to me, 'I am as poor as you to-day, Jo,' he ses.

He used fur to say to me, 'I am as poor as you today, Jo,' he ses.


I wants to tell him that I am as poor as him now and have come there to be laid along with him."


P'raps they wouldn't do it if I wos to go myself.


But will you promise to have me took there, sir, and laid along with him?"

Will you promise to have me took there, sir, and laid along with him?"


They'll have to get the key of the gate afore they can take me in, for it's allus locked.

They'll have to get the key of the gate, for it's allus locked.


And there's a step there, as I used for to clean with my broom.


The cart is shaken all to pieces, and the rugged road is very near its end.


"I hear you, sir, in the dark, but I'm a-gropin--a-gropin--let me catch hold of your hand."

"I hear you, sir, in the dark, but I'm a-gropin - a-gropin - let me catch hold of your hand."


"I'll say anythink as you say, sir, for I knows it's good."


"Art in heaven--is the light a-comin, sir?"

"Art in heaven - is the light a-comin, sir?"


The light is come upon the dark benighted way.


Dead, right reverends and wrong reverends of every order.


Dead, men and women, born with heavenly compassion in your hearts.


Although the morning was raw, and although the fog still seemed heavy--I say seemed, for the windows were so encrusted with dirt that they would have made midsummer sunshine dim--I was sufficiently forewarned of the discomfort within doors at that early hour and sufficiently curious about London to think it a good idea on the part of Miss Jellyby when she proposed that we should go out for a walk.

Although the morning was raw, and although the fog still seemed heavy beyond the dirt-encrusted windows, I was curious enough about London to agree when Miss Jellyby proposed that we should go out for a walk.


"Ma won't be down for ever so long," she said, "and then it's a chance if breakfast's ready for an hour afterwards, they dawdle so.

"Ma won't be down for ever so long," she said, "and then breakfast won't be ready for an hour afterwards, they dawdle so.


As to Pa, he gets what he can and goes to the office.

Pa gets what he can and goes to the office.


He never has what you would call a regular breakfast."


Priscilla leaves him out the loaf and some milk, when there is any, overnight.


Sometimes there isn't any milk, and sometimes the cat drinks it.


But I'm afraid you must be tired, Miss Summerson, and perhaps you would rather go to bed."


"I am not at all tired, my dear," said I, "and would much prefer to go out."


"If you're sure you would," returned Miss Jellyby, "I'll get my things on."


Ada said she would go too, and was soon astir.


I made a proposal to Peepy, in default of being able to do anything better for him, that he should let me wash him and afterwards lay him down on my bed again.

I suggested to Peepy that he should let me wash him and afterwards lay him down on my bed again.


To this he submitted with the best grace possible, staring at me during the whole operation as if he never had been, and never could again be, so astonished in his life--looking very miserable also, certainly, but making no complaint, and going snugly to sleep as soon as it was over.

To this he submitted, looking astonished and miserable at the washing, certainly, but making no complaint, and going snugly to sleep as soon as it was over.


At first I was in two minds about taking such a liberty, but I soon reflected that nobody in the house was likely to notice it.


What with the bustle of dispatching Peepy and the bustle of getting myself ready and helping Ada, I was soon quite in a glow.


We found Miss Jellyby trying to warm herself at the fire in the writing-room, which Priscilla was then lighting with a smutty parlour candlestick, throwing the candle in to make it burn better.

Ada and I found Miss Jellyby trying to warm herself at the fire in the writing-room,


Everything was just as we had left it last night and was evidently intended to remain so.

where everything was just as we had left it last night.


Below-stairs the dinner-cloth had not been taken away, but had been left ready for breakfast.


Crumbs, dust, and waste-paper were all over the house.


Some pewter pots and a milk-can hung on the area railings; the door stood open; and we met the cook round the corner coming out of a public-house, wiping her mouth.


She mentioned, as she passed us, that she had been to see what o'clock it was.


But before we met the cook, we met Richard, who was dancing up and down Thavies Inn to warm his feet.


He was agreeably surprised to see us stirring so soon and said he would gladly share our walk.

agreeably surprised to see us and said he would gladly share our walk.


So he took care of Ada, and Miss Jellyby and I went first.


I may mention that Miss Jellyby had relapsed into her sulky manner and that I really should not have thought she liked me much unless she had told me so.

Miss Jellyby had relapsed into her sulky manner.


"Anywhere's nowhere," said Miss Jellyby, stopping perversely.

"Anywhere's nowhere," said Miss Jellyby, stopping.


"Let us go somewhere at any rate," said I.


"Now, you are my witness, Miss Summerson, I say I don't care--but if he was to come to our house with his great, shining, lumpy forehead night after night till he was as old as Methuselah, I wouldn't have anything to say to him.

"If he was to come to our house with his great, shining, lumpy forehead night after night till he was as old as Methuselah, I wouldn't have anything to say to him.


Such ASSES as he and Ma make of themselves!"

Such asses as he and Ma make of themselves!"


I remonstrated, in allusion to the epithet and the vigorous emphasis Miss Jellyby set upon it.


Don't talk of duty as a child, Miss Summerson; where's Ma's duty as a parent?

Don't talk of that, Miss Summerson; where's Ma's duty as a parent?


All made over to the public and Africa, I suppose!


Then let the public and Africa show duty as a child; it's much more their affair than mine.


Very well, so am I shocked too; so we are both shocked, and there's an end of it!"

Very well, so am I; we are both shocked, and there's an end of it!"


"But for all that, I say again, he may come, and come, and come, and I won't have anything to say to him.

"But for all that, he may come, and come, and come, and I won't have anything to say to him.


If there's any stuff in the world that I hate and detest, it's the stuff he and Ma talk.


I wonder the very paving-stones opposite our house can have the patience to stay there and be a witness of such inconsistencies and contradictions as all that sounding nonsense, and Ma's management!"


I could not but understand her to refer to Mr. Quale, the young gentleman who had appeared after dinner yesterday.

I understood her to refer to Mr. Quale, the young gentleman who had appeared after dinner yesterday.


I was saved the disagreeable necessity of pursuing the subject by Richard and Ada coming up at a round pace, laughing and asking us if we meant to run a race.

Richard and Ada came up, laughing and asking us if we meant to run a race.


Thus interrupted, Miss Jellyby became silent and walked moodily on at my side while I admired the long successions and varieties of streets, the quantity of people already going to and fro, the number of vehicles passing and repassing, the busy preparations in the setting forth of shop windows and the sweeping out of shops, and the extraordinary creatures in rags secretly groping among the swept-out rubbish for pins and other refuse.

Thus interrupted, Miss Jellyby became silent and walked moodily at my side while I admired the streets and the people going to and fro, the number of vehicles passing, the sweeping out of shops, and the extraordinary creatures in rags secretly groping among the swept-out rubbish.


"So, cousin," said the cheerful voice of Richard to Ada behind me.

"So, cousin," said the cheerful voice of Richard behind me


We have come by another way to our place of meeting yesterday, and--by the Great Seal, here's the old lady again!"

We have come to it by another way, and - by the Great Seal, here's the old lady again!"


Truly, there she was, immediately in front of us, curtsying, and smiling, and saying with her yesterday's air of patronage, "The wards in Jarndyce!

Truly, there she was, curtsying and smiling, and saying, "The wards in Jarndyce!


"You are out early, ma'am," said I as she curtsied to me.


I collect my thoughts here for the business of the day," said the old lady mincingly.


"The business of the day requires a great deal of thought."


Chancery justice is so ve-ry difficult to follow."


whispered Miss Jellyby, drawing my arm tighter through her own.


The little old lady's hearing was remarkably quick.


I have the honour to attend court regularly.


Have I the pleasure of addressing another of the youthful parties in Jarndyce?"


said the old lady, recovering herself, with her head on one side, from a very low curtsy.

said the old lady, with her head on one side.


Richard, anxious to atone for his thoughtlessness of yesterday, good-naturedly explained that Miss Jellyby was not connected with the suit.

Richard good-naturedly explained that Miss Jellyby was not connected with the suit.


I pass the greater part of the long vacation here.


You find the long vacation exceedingly long, don't you?"


We said yes, as she seemed to expect us to say so.

We said yes, as she seemed to expect it.


"When the leaves are falling from the trees and there are no more flowers in bloom to make up into nosegays for the Lord Chancellor's court," said the old lady, "the vacation is fulfilled and the sixth seal, mentioned in the Revelations, again prevails.

"When the leaves are falling from the trees," said the old lady, "the vacation is fulfilled and the sixth seal, mentioned in the Revelations, again prevails.


Youth, and hope, and beauty are very seldom there.

Youth, and hope, and beauty very seldom visit."


It is a long, long time since I had a visit from either."


She had taken my hand, and leading me and Miss Jellyby away, beckoned Richard and Ada to come too.

She had taken my hand, and was leading me and Miss Jellyby away.


I did not know how to excuse myself and looked to Richard for aid.


As he was half amused and half curious and all in doubt how to get rid of the old lady without offence, she continued to lead us away, and he and Ada continued to follow, our strange conductress informing us all the time, with much smiling condescension, that she lived close by.

As he was half amused and half curious, he and Ada followed us.


She lived so close by that we had not time to have done humouring her for a few moments before she was at home.


Slipping us out at a little side gate, the old lady stopped most unexpectedly in a narrow back street, part of some courts and lanes immediately outside the wall of the inn, and said, "This is my lodging.

, in a narrow back street.
"This is my lodging.


She had stopped at a shop over which was written KROOK, RAG AND BOTTLE WAREHOUSE.


Also, in long thin letters, KROOK, DEALER IN MARINE STORES.


In one part of the window was a picture of a red paper mill at which a cart was unloading a quantity of sacks of old rags.


In another was the inscription BONES BOUGHT.


In another, LADIES' AND GENTLEMEN'S WARDROBES BOUGHT.


Everything seemed to be bought and nothing to be sold there.


In all parts of the window were quantities of dirty bottles--blacking bottles, medicine bottles, ginger-beer and soda-water bottles, pickle bottles, wine bottles, ink bottles; I am reminded by mentioning the latter that the shop had in several little particulars the air of being in a legal neighbourhood and of being, as it were, a dirty hanger-on and disowned relation of the law.

In all parts of the window were quantities of dirty bottles - medicine bottles, ginger-beer and soda-water bottles, pickle bottles, wine bottles, and a great many ink bottles. The shop had the air of being a disowned relation of the law.


There was a little tottering bench of shabby old volumes outside the door, labelled "Law Books, all at 9d."

There was a little tottering bench of shabby old volumes outside the door, labelled "Law Books, 9d."


Some of the inscriptions I have enumerated were written in law-hand, like the papers I had seen in Kenge and Carboy's office and the letters I had so long received from the firm.

Some of the inscriptions were written in law-hand, like the letters I had received from Kenge and Carboy's office.


Among them was one, in the same writing, having nothing to do with the business of the shop, but announcing that a respectable man aged forty-five wanted engrossing or copying to execute with neatness and dispatch: Address to Nemo, care of Mr. Krook, within.

One notice in the same writing announced that a respectable man aged forty-five wanted copying jobs, to execute with neatness and dispatch: Address to Nemo, care of Mr. Krook, within.


There were several second-hand bags, blue and red, hanging up.


A little way within the shop-door lay heaps of old crackled parchment scrolls and discoloured and dog's-eared law-papers.

A little way inside the shop-door lay heaps of old cracked parchment scrolls, dog-eared law-papers and


I could have fancied that all the rusty keys, of which there must have been hundreds huddled together as old iron, had once belonged to doors of rooms or strong chests in lawyers' offices.


The litter of rags tumbled partly into and partly out of a one-legged wooden scale, hanging without any counterpoise from a beam, might have been counsellors' bands and gowns torn up.


One had only to fancy, as Richard whispered to Ada and me while we all stood looking in, that yonder bones in a corner, piled together and picked very clean, were the bones of clients, to make the picture complete.

One had only to fancy, as Richard whispered to Ada, that yonder bones in a corner, piled together and picked very clean, were the bones of clients, to make the picture complete.


As it was still foggy and dark, and as the shop was blinded besides by the wall of Lincoln's Inn, intercepting the light within a couple of yards, we should not have seen so much but for a lighted lantern that an old man in spectacles and a hairy cap was carrying about in the shop.

We could only see all this by a lantern carried by an old man in the shop, in spectacles and a hairy cap.


Turning towards the door, he now caught sight of us.


He was short, cadaverous, and withered, with his head sunk sideways between his shoulders and the breath issuing in visible smoke from his mouth as if he were on fire within.


His throat, chin, and eyebrows were so frosted with white hairs and so gnarled with veins and puckered skin that he looked from his breast upward like some old root in a fall of snow.

His puckered throat and chin were so frosted with white hairs that he looked like some old root in a fall of snow.


We naturally drew back and glanced at our conductress, who had been trying to open the house-door with a key she had taken from her pocket, and to whom Richard now said that as we had had the pleasure of seeing where she lived, we would leave her, being pressed for time.

We naturally drew back and glanced at the old lady, who had been trying to open the house-door with a key.


She became so fantastically and pressingly earnest in her entreaties that we would walk up and see her apartment for an instant, and was so bent, in her harmless way, on leading me in, as part of the good omen she desired, that I (whatever the others might do) saw nothing for it but to comply.

She became so pressingly earnest in her entreaties that we would walk up and see her apartment, that I saw nothing for it but to comply.


I suppose we were all more or less curious; at any rate, when the old man added his persuasions to hers and said, "Aye, aye!

I suppose we were all curious; at any rate, when the old man said, "Aye, aye!


Come in through the shop if t'other door's out of order!"


we all went in, stimulated by Richard's laughing encouragement and relying on his protection.


"My landlord, Krook," said the little old lady, condescending to him from her lofty station as she presented him to us.

"My landlord, Krook," said the little old lady.


"He is called among the neighbours the Lord Chancellor.


His shop is called the Court of Chancery.


She shook her head a great many times and tapped her forehead with her finger to express to us that we must have the goodness to excuse him, "For he is a little--you know--M!"

She shook her head and tapped her forehead with her finger. "For he is a little - you know - M!"


said the old lady with great stateliness.


"It's true enough," he said, going before us with the lantern, "that they call me the Lord Chancellor and call my shop Chancery.


And why do you think they call me the Lord Chancellor and my shop Chancery?"


"You see," said the old man, stopping and turning round, "they--Hi!

"You see," said the old man, stopping and turning round, "they - Hi!


I have got three sacks of ladies' hair below, but none so beautiful and fine as this.

I have got three sacks of ladies' hair below, but none so beautiful as this!"


said Richard, strongly disapproving of his having drawn one of Ada's tresses through his yellow hand.


"You can admire as the rest of us do without taking that liberty."


The old man darted at him a sudden look which even called my attention from Ada, who, startled and blushing, was so remarkably beautiful that she seemed to fix the wandering attention of the little old lady herself.

The old man darted him a sudden startling look.


But as Ada interposed and laughingly said she could only feel proud of such genuine admiration, Mr. Krook shrunk into his former self as suddenly as he had leaped out of it.

But Ada, blushing, interposed and laughingly said she could only feel proud of such admiration. Mr. Krook shrunk into his former self as suddenly as he had leaped out of it.


"You see, I have so many things here," he resumed, holding up the lantern, "of so many kinds, and all as the neighbours think (but THEY know nothing), wasting away and going to rack and ruin, that that's why they have given me and my place a christening.

"You see, I have so many things here," he resumed, "that the neighbours have given me and my place a christening.


And I have so many old parchmentses and papers in my stock.


And I have a liking for rust and must and cobwebs.


And I can't abear to part with anything I once lay hold of (or so my neighbours think, but what do THEY know?)


or to alter anything, or to have any sweeping, nor scouring, nor cleaning, nor repairing going on about me.


That's the way I've got the ill name of Chancery.

That's how I've got the name of Chancery.


I go to see my noble and learned brother pretty well every day, when he sits in the Inn.


A large grey cat leaped from some neighbouring shelf on his shoulder and startled us all.

A large grey cat leaped from a shelf on to his shoulder and startled us all.


The cat leaped down and ripped at a bundle of rags with her tigerish claws, with a sound that it set my teeth on edge to hear.

The cat leaped down and ripped at a bundle of rags with her tigerish claws.


"She'd do as much for any one I was to set her on," said the old man.

"She'd do as much for anyone I was to set her on," said the old man.


"I deal in cat-skins among other general matters, and hers was offered to me.


It's a very fine skin, as you may see, but I didn't have it stripped off!


THAT warn't like Chancery practice though, says you!"


He had by this time led us across the shop, and now opened a door in the back part of it, leading to the house-entry.

He had by this time led us across the shop, and now opened a door at the back.


As he stood with his hand upon the lock, the little old lady graciously observed to him before passing out, "That will do, Krook.

The little old lady graciously observed,
"That will do, Krook.


I have none to spare myself, having to attend court very soon.


My young friends are the wards in Jarndyce."


The great suit, Krook," returned his lodger.


exclaimed the old man in a tone of thoughtful amazement and with a wider stare than before.

exclaimed the old man in a tone of thoughtful amazement.


He seemed so rapt all in a moment and looked so curiously at us that Richard said, "Why, you appear to trouble yourself a good deal about the causes before your noble and learned brother, the other Chancellor!"

He looked so curiously at us that Richard said, "Why, you appear to trouble yourself a good deal about the causes set before your learned brother, the other Chancellor!"


"Carstone," he repeated, slowly checking off that name upon his forefinger; and each of the others he went on to mention upon a separate finger.


There was the name of Barbary, and the name of Clare, and the name of Dedlock, too, I think."


"He knows as much of the cause as the real salaried Chancellor!"

"He knows as much of the cause as the real Chancellor!"


said Richard, quite astonished, to Ada and me.


said the old man, coming slowly out of his abstraction.


Tom Jarndyce--you'll excuse me, being related; but he was never known about court by any other name, and was as well known there as--she is now," nodding slightly at his lodger.


He got into a restless habit of strolling about when the cause was on, or expected, talking to the little shopkeepers and telling 'em to keep out of Chancery, whatever they did.

He got into a habit of strolling about when the cause was on, talking to the shopkeepers and telling 'em to keep out of Chancery, whatever they did.


'For,' says he, 'it's being ground to bits in a slow mill; it's being roasted at a slow fire; it's being stung to death by single bees; it's being drowned by drops; it's going mad by grains.'

'For,' says he, 'it's being roasted at a slow fire; it's being stung to death by single bees; it's being drowned by drops; it's going mad by grains.'


He was as near making away with himself, just where the young lady stands, as near could be."

He was as near making away with himself as could be."


"He come in at the door," said the old man, slowly pointing an imaginary track along the shop, "on the day he did it--the whole neighbourhood had said for months before that he would do it, of a certainty sooner or later--he come in at the door that day, and walked along there, and sat himself on a bench that stood there, and asked me (you'll judge I was a mortal sight younger then) to fetch him a pint of wine.

"He come in at the door," said the old man, "on the day he did it - the whole neighbourhood had said for months that he would do it, sooner or later - he come in that day, and sat himself on a bench there, and asked me (I was a mortal sight younger then) to fetch him a pint of wine.


'For,' says he, 'Krook, I am much depressed; my cause is on again, and I think I'm nearer judgment than I ever was.'

'For,' says he, 'Krook, I am much depressed; my cause is on again.'


I hadn't a mind to leave him alone; and I persuaded him to go to the tavern over the way there, t'other side my lane (I mean Chancery Lane); and I followed and looked in at the window, and saw him, comfortable as I thought, in the arm-chair by the fire, and company with him.

I persuaded him to go to the tavern across the way; and I followed and looked in at the window, and saw him, comfortable in the arm-chair by the fire, and company with him.


I hadn't hardly got back here when I heard a shot go echoing and rattling right away into the inn.

I hadn't hardly got back here when I heard a shot go echoing.


I ran out--neighbours ran out--twenty of us cried at once, 'Tom Jarndyce!'"

I ran out - neighbours ran out - twenty of us cried at once, 'Tom Jarndyce!'"


The old man stopped, looked hard at us, looked down into the lantern, blew the light out, and shut the lantern up.

The old man stopped, looked hard at us, and blew the lantern out.


"We were right, I needn't tell the present hearers.


To be sure, how the neighbourhood poured into court that afternoon while the cause was on!


How my noble and learned brother, and all the rest of 'em, grubbed and muddled away as usual and tried to look as if they hadn't heard a word of the last fact in the case or as if they had--Oh, dear me!--nothing at all to do with it if they had heard of it by any chance!"

How my noble and learned brother, and all the rest of 'em, muddled away as usual and tried to look as if they'd heard nothing, or had nothing at all to do with it!"


Ada's colour had entirely left her, and Richard was scarcely less pale.


Nor could I wonder, judging even from my emotions, and I was no party in the suit, that to hearts so untried and fresh it was a shock to come into the inheritance of a protracted misery, attended in the minds of many people with such dreadful recollections.


I had another uneasiness, in the application of the painful story to the poor half-witted creature who had brought us there; but, to my surprise, she seemed perfectly unconscious of that and only led the way upstairs again, informing us with the toleration of a superior creature for the infirmities of a common mortal that her landlord was "a little M, you know!"

To my surprise, the old lady seemed unaffected and led the way upstairs again, informing us that her landlord was "a little M, you know!"


She lived at the top of the house, in a pretty large room, from which she had a glimpse of Lincoln's Inn Hall.

She lived at the top of the house, in a large room, from which she had a glimpse of Lincoln's Inn Hall.


This seemed to have been her principal inducement, originally, for taking up her residence there.


She could look at it, she said, in the night, especially in the moonshine.


Her room was clean, but very, very bare.


I noticed the scantiest necessaries in the way of furniture; a few old prints from books, of Chancellors and barristers, wafered against the wall; and some half-dozen reticles and work-bags, "containing documents," as she informed us.


There were neither coals nor ashes in the grate, and I saw no articles of clothing anywhere, nor any kind of food.

There were no coals nor ashes in the grate, and no articles of clothing anywhere, nor any kind of food.


Upon a shelf in an open cupboard were a plate or two, a cup or two, and so forth, but all dry and empty.

Upon a shelf were a plate or two, a cup or two, but all dry and empty.


There was a more affecting meaning in her pinched appearance, I thought as I looked round, than I had understood before.

I thought, as I looked round, than I understood her pinched appearance better than before.


"Extremely honoured, I am sure," said our poor hostess with the greatest suavity, "by this visit from the wards in Jarndyce.

"Extremely honoured, I am sure," said our poor hostess, "by this visit from the wards in Jarndyce.


In consequence of the necessity of attending on the Chancellor.


I pass my days in court, my evenings and my nights here.


I find the nights long, for I sleep but little and think much.

I find the nights long, for I sleep little and think much.


That is, of course, unavoidable, being in Chancery.


I expect a judgment shortly and shall then place my establishment on a superior footing.


At present, I don't mind confessing to the wards in Jarndyce (in strict confidence) that I sometimes find it difficult to keep up a genteel appearance.


I have felt something sharper than cold.


Pray excuse the introduction of such mean topics."


She partly drew aside the curtain of the long, low garret window and called our attention to a number of bird-cages hanging there, some containing several birds.

She partly drew aside the curtain of the low garret window and called our attention to a number of bird-cages hanging there, containing


There were larks, linnets, and goldfinches--I should think at least twenty.

at least twenty larks, linnets, and goldfinches.


"I began to keep the little creatures," she said, "with an object that the wards will readily comprehend.


With the intention of restoring them to liberty.


Their lives, poor silly things, are so short in comparison with Chancery proceedings that, one by one, the whole collection has died over and over again.

Their lives are so short in comparison with Chancery proceedings that, one by one, the whole collection has died over and over again.


I doubt, do you know, whether one of these, though they are all young, will live to be free!


Although she sometimes asked a question, she never seemed to expect a reply, but rambled on as if she were in the habit of doing so when no one but herself was present.

She did not seem to expect a reply, but rambled on:


"Indeed," she pursued, "I positively doubt sometimes, I do assure you, whether while matters are still unsettled, and the sixth or Great Seal still prevails, I may not one day be found lying stark and senseless here, as I have found so many birds!"

"Indeed, I doubt sometimes, I do assure you, whether I may not one day be found lying stark and senseless here, as I have found so many birds!"


Richard, answering what he saw in Ada's compassionate eyes, took the opportunity of laying some money, softly and unobserved, on the chimney-piece.

Ada looked at Richard, who softly laid some money on the chimney-piece, unobserved.


We all drew nearer to the cages, feigning to examine the birds.


"I can't allow them to sing much," said the little old lady, "for (you'll think this curious) I find my mind confused by the idea that they are singing while I am following the arguments in court.

"I can't allow the birds to sing much," said the little old lady, "for they confuse my mind.


And my mind requires to be so very clear, you know!

And my mind needs to be so very clear in court, you know!


Another time, I'll tell you their names.


On a day of such good omen, they shall sing as much as they like.


In honour of youth," a smile and curtsy, "hope," a smile and curtsy, "and beauty," a smile and curtsy.

In honour of youth, hope, and beauty," with a smile and curtsy.


"I cannot admit the air freely," said the little old lady--the room was close, and would have been the better for it--"because the cat you saw downstairs, called Lady Jane, is greedy for their lives.

"I cannot admit the air freely," said the little old lady, "because the cat you saw downstairs, called Lady Jane, is greedy for their lives.


She crouches on the parapet outside for hours and hours.


I have discovered," whispering mysteriously, "that her natural cruelty is sharpened by a jealous fear of their regaining their liberty.

She is jealous of their regaining their liberty.


In consequence of the judgment I expect being shortly given.

In consequence of the judgment that will be shortly given.


I half believe, sometimes, that she is no cat, but the wolf of the old saying.


It is so very difficult to keep her from the door."


Some neighbouring bells, reminding the poor soul that it was half-past nine, did more for us in the way of bringing our visit to an end than we could easily have done for ourselves.

Some neighbouring bells reminded the poor soul that it was half-past nine.


She hurriedly took up her little bag of documents, which she had laid upon the table on coming in, and asked if we were also going into court.

She hurriedly took up her little bag of documents, and asked if we were also going into court.


On our answering no, and that we would on no account detain her, she opened the door to attend us downstairs.

On our answering no, she opened the door to attend us downstairs.


"With such an omen, it is even more necessary than usual that I should be there before the Chancellor comes in," said she, "for he might mention my case the first thing.


I have a presentiment that he WILL mention it the first thing this morning."


She stopped to tell us in a whisper as we were going down that the whole house was filled with strange lumber which her landlord had bought piecemeal and had no wish to sell, in consequence of being a little M. This was on the first floor.


But she had made a previous stoppage on the second floor and had silently pointed at a dark door there.

She stopped on the second floor and silently pointed at a dark door.


"The only other lodger," she now whispered in explanation, "a law-writer.

"The only other lodger," she whispered in explanation, "a law-writer.


The children in the lanes here say he has sold himself to the devil.


I don't know what he can have done with the money.


She appeared to mistrust that the lodger might hear her even there, and repeating "Hush!"


went before us on tiptoe as though even the sound of her footsteps might reveal to him what she had said.

She went before us down the stairs on tiptoe.


Passing through the shop on our way out, as we had passed through it on our way in, we found the old man storing a quantity of packets of waste-paper in a kind of well in the floor.

Passing through the shop on our way out, we found the old man storing a quantity of packets of waste-paper in a kind of well in the floor.


He seemed to be working hard, with the perspiration standing on his forehead, and had a piece of chalk by him, with which, as he put each separate package or bundle down, he made a crooked mark on the panelling of the wall.

He had a piece of chalk, with which, as he put each package down, he made a crooked mark on the wall.


Richard and Ada, and Miss Jellyby, and the little old lady had gone by him, and I was going when he touched me on the arm to stay me, and chalked the letter J upon the wall--in a very curious manner, beginning with the end of the letter and shaping it backward.

The others had all gone past, when he touched me on the arm to stop me, and chalked the letter J upon the wall, in a very curious manner, shaping it backward.


It was a capital letter, not a printed one, but just such a letter as any clerk in Messrs. Kenge and Carboy's office would have made.


With another glance at me, and a glance at the door, he rubbed it out and turned an "a" in its place (not a capital letter this time), and said, "What's that?"

With another glance at me, and a glance at the door, he rubbed it out and wrote an "a" in its place, and said, "What's that?"


He then rubbed that out and turned the letter "r," and asked me the same question.

He rubbed that out and wrote the letter "r," and asked the same question.


He went on quickly until he had formed in the same curious manner, beginning at the ends and bottoms of the letters, the word Jarndyce, without once leaving two letters on the wall together.

He went on this way until he had formed the word Jarndyce, without once leaving two letters on the wall together.


In the same odd way, yet with the same rapidity, he then produced singly, and rubbed out singly, the letters forming the words Bleak House.

In the same odd way, he then produced singly, and rubbed out, the letters forming the words Bleak House.


These, in some astonishment, I also read; and he laughed again.


said the old man, laying aside the chalk.


"I have a turn for copying from memory, you see, miss, though I can neither read nor write."

"I can copy from memory, you see, miss, though I can neither read nor write."


He looked so disagreeable and his cat looked so wickedly at me, as if I were a blood-relation of the birds upstairs, that I was quite relieved by Richard's appearing at the door and saying, "Miss Summerson, I hope you are not bargaining for the sale of your hair.

He looked so disagreeable that I was quite relieved by Richard's appearing at the door and saying, "Miss Summerson, I hope you are not bargaining for the sale of your hair.


Three sacks below are quite enough for Mr. Krook!"

Three sacks are quite enough for Mr. Krook!"


I lost no time in wishing Mr. Krook good morning and joining my friends outside, where we parted with the little old lady, who gave us her blessing with great ceremony and renewed her assurance of yesterday in reference to her intention of settling estates on Ada and me.

Wishing Mr. Krook good morning, I joined my friends outside, where we parted with the little old lady.


Before we finally turned out of those lanes, we looked back and saw Mr. Krook standing at his shop-door, in his spectacles, looking after us, with his cat upon his shoulder, and her tail sticking up on one side of his hairy cap like a tall feather.

Before we left, we looked back and saw Mr. Krook standing at his shop-door, in his spectacles, looking after us, with his cat upon his shoulder.


"Quite an adventure for a morning in London!"


"Ah, cousin, cousin, it's a weary word this Chancery!"

"Ah, cousin, it's a weary word, this Chancery!"


"It is to me, and has been ever since I can remember," returned Ada.


"I am grieved that I should be the enemy--as I suppose I am--of a great number of relations and others, and that they should be my enemies--as I suppose they are--and that we should all be ruining one another without knowing how or why and be in constant doubt and discord all our lives.

"I am grieved that I and my relations should be enemies - as I suppose we are - and that we should all be ruining one another without knowing how or why.


It seems very strange, as there must be right somewhere, that an honest judge in real earnest has not been able to find out through all these years where it is."

It seems very strange that an honest judge has not been able to find out what the right thing is."


All this wasteful, wanton chess-playing IS very strange.

All this wasteful, wanton chess-playing is very strange.


To see that composed court yesterday jogging on so serenely and to think of the wretchedness of the pieces on the board gave me the headache and the heartache both together.

To see that composed court yesterday and to think of the wretchedness of the pieces on the board gave me the headache and the heartache both together.


My head ached with wondering how it happened, if men were neither fools nor rascals; and my heart ached to think they could possibly be either.


But at all events, Ada--I may call you Ada?"

But at all events, Ada - I may call you Ada?"


"At all events, Chancery will work none of its bad influences on US.

"At all events, Chancery will work none of its bad influences on us.


We have happily been brought together, thanks to our good kinsman, and it can't divide us now!"

We have been brought together, thanks to our good kinsman, and it can't divide us now!"


Miss Jellyby gave my arm a squeeze and me a very significant look.

Miss Jellyby gave me a very significant look.


I smiled in return, and we made the rest of the way back very pleasantly.

I smiled in return, and we made our way back.


In half an hour after our arrival, Mrs. Jellyby appeared; and in the course of an hour the various things necessary for breakfast straggled one by one into the dining-room.

Half an hour after our arrival, Mrs. Jellyby appeared; and the various things necessary for breakfast straggled one by one into the dining-room.


I do not doubt that Mrs. Jellyby had gone to bed and got up in the usual manner, but she presented no appearance of having changed her dress.

Mrs. Jellyby did not seem to have changed her dress.


She was greatly occupied during breakfast, for the morning's post brought a heavy correspondence relative to Borrioboola-Gha, which would occasion her (she said) to pass a busy day.

She was greatly occupied during breakfast, for the morning's post brought a heavy correspondence about Borrioboola-Gha.


The children tumbled about, and notched memoranda of their accidents in their legs, which were perfect little calendars of distress; and Peepy was lost for an hour and a half, and brought home from Newgate market by a policeman.

The children tumbled about; and Peepy was lost for an hour and a half, and brought home from Newgate market by a policeman.


The equable manner in which Mrs. Jellyby sustained both his absence and his restoration to the family circle surprised us all.

The equable manner in which Mrs. Jellyby sustained both his absence and his restoration surprised us all.


She was by that time perseveringly dictating to Caddy, and Caddy was fast relapsing into the inky condition in which we had found her.

She was by that time dictating to Caddy, and Caddy was fast relapsing into the inky condition in which we had found her.