Chapter 14. Paul grows more and more Old-fashioned, and goes Home for the Holidays

Dombey and Son

by Charles Dickens

When the Midsummer vacation approached, no indecent
manifestations of joy were exhibited by the leaden-eyed young
gentlemen assembled at Doctor Blimber's. Any such violent expression
as 'breaking up,' would have been quite inapplicable to that polite
establishment. The young gentlemen oozed away, semi-annually, to
their own homes; but they never broke up. They would have scorned the
action.

Tozer, who was constantly galled and tormented by a starched
white cambric neckerchief, which he wore at the express desire of Mrs
Tozer, his parent, who, designing him for the Church, was of opinion
that he couldn't be in that forward state of preparation too soon -
Tozer said, indeed, that choosing between two evils, he thought he
would rather stay where he was, than go home. However inconsistent
this declaration might appear with that passage in Tozer's Essay on
the subject, wherein he had observed 'that the thoughts of home and
all its recollections, awakened in his mind the most pleasing
emotions of anticipation and delight,' and had also likened himself
to a Roman General, flushed with a recent victory over the Iceni, or
laden with Carthaginian spoil, advancing within a few hours' march of
the Capitol, presupposed, for the purposes of the simile, to be the
dwelling-place of Mrs Tozer, still it was very sincerely made. For it
seemed that Tozer had a dreadful Uncle, who not only volunteered
examinations of him, in the holidays, on abstruse points, but twisted
innocent events and things, and wrenched them to the same fell
purpose. So that if this Uncle took him to the Play, or, on a similar
pretence of kindness, carried him to see a Giant, or a Dwarf, or a
Conjuror, or anything, Tozer knew he had read up some classical
allusion to the subject beforehand, and was thrown into a state of
mortal apprehension: not foreseeing where he might break out, or what
authority he might not quote against him.

As to Briggs, his father made no show of artifice about it. He
never would leave him alone. So numerous and severe were the mental
trials of that unfortunate youth in vacation time, that the friends
of the family (then resident near Bayswater, London) seldom
approached the ornamental piece of water in Kensington Gardens,'
without a vague expectation of seeing Master Briggs's hat floating on
the surface, and an unfinished exercise lying on the bank. Briggs,
therefore, was not at all sanguine on the subject of holidays; and
these two sharers of little Paul's bedroom were so fair a sample of
the young gentlemen in general, that the most elastic among them
contemplated the arrival of those festive periods with genteel
resignation.

It was far otherwise with little Paul. The end of these first
holidays was to witness his separation from Florence, but who ever
looked forward to the end of holidays whose beginning was not yet
come! Not Paul, assuredly. As the happy time drew near, the lions and
tigers climbing up the bedroom walls became quite tame and
frolicsome. The grim sly faces in the squares and diamonds of the
floor-cloth, relaxed and peeped out at him with less wicked eyes. The
grave old clock had more of personal interest in the tone of its
formal inquiry; and the restless sea went rolling on all night, to
the sounding of a melancholy strain - yet it was pleasant too - that
rose and fell with the waves, and rocked him, as it were, to
sleep.

Mr Feeder, B.A., seemed to think that he, too, would enjoy the
holidays very much. Mr Toots projected a life of holidays from that
time forth; for, as he regularly informed Paul every day, it was his
'last half' at Doctor Blimber's, and he was going to begin to come
into his property directly.

It was perfectly understood between Paul and Mr Toots, that they
were intimate friends, notwithstanding their distance in point of
years and station. As the vacation approached, and Mr Toots breathed
harder and stared oftener in Paul's society, than he had done before,
Paul knew that he meant he was sorry they were going to lose sight of
each other, and felt very much obliged to him for his patronage and
good opinion.

It was even understood by Doctor Blimber, Mrs Blimber, and Miss
Blimber, as well as by the young gentlemen in general, that Toots had
somehow constituted himself protector and guardian of Dombey, and the
circumstance became so notorious, even to Mrs Pipchin, that the good
old creature cherished feelings of bitterness and jealousy against
Toots; and, in the sanctuary of her own home, repeatedly denounced
him as a 'chuckle-headed noodle.' Whereas the innocent Toots had no
more idea of awakening Mrs Pipchin's wrath, than he had of any other
definite possibility or proposition. On the contrary, he was disposed
to consider her rather a remarkable character, with many points of
interest about her. For this reason he smiled on her with so much
urbanity, and asked her how she did, so often, in the course of her
visits to little Paul, that at last she one night told him plainly,
she wasn't used to it, whatever he might think; and she could not,
and she would not bear it, either from himself or any other puppy
then existing: at which unexpected acknowledgment of his civilities,
Mr Toots was so alarmed that he secreted himself in a retired spot
until she had gone. Nor did he ever again face the doughty Mrs
Pipchin, under Doctor Blimber's roof.

They were within two or three weeks of the holidays, when, one
day, Cornelia Blimber called Paul into her room, and said, 'Dombey, I
am going to send home your analysis.'

'Thank you, Ma'am,' returned Paul.

'You know what I mean, do you, Dombey?' inquired Miss Blimber,
looking hard at him, through the spectacles.

'No, Ma'am,' said Paul.

'Dombey, Dombey,' said Miss Blimber, 'I begin to be afraid you
are a sad boy. When you don't know the meaning of an expression, why
don't you seek for information?'

'Mrs Pipchin told me I wasn't to ask questions,' returned
Paul.

'I must beg you not to mention Mrs Pipchin to me, on any
account, Dombey,' returned Miss Blimber. 'I couldn't think of
allowing it. The course of study here, is very far removed from
anything of that sort. A repetition of such allusions would make it
necessary for me to request to hear, without a mistake, before
breakfast-time to-morrow morning, from Verbum personale down to
simillimia cygno.'

'I didn't mean, Ma'am - ' began little Paul.

'I must trouble you not to tell me that you didn't mean, if you
please, Dombey,' said Miss Blimber, who preserved an awful politeness
in her admonitions. 'That is a line of argument I couldn't dream of
permitting.'

Paul felt it safest to say nothing at all, so he only looked at
Miss Blimber's spectacles. Miss Blimber having shaken her head at him
gravely, referred to a paper lying before her.

'"Analysis of the character of P. Dombey." If my recollection
serves me,' said Miss Blimber breaking off, 'the word analysis as
opposed to synthesis, is thus defined by Walker. "The resolution of
an object, whether of the senses or of the intellect, into its first
elements." As opposed to synthesis, you observe. Now you know what
analysis is, Dombey.'

Dombey didn't seem to be absolutely blinded by the light let in
upon his intellect, but he made Miss Blimber a little bow.

'"Analysis,"' resumed Miss Blimber, casting her eye over the
paper, '"of the character of P. Dombey." I find that the natural
capacity of Dombey is extremely good; and that his general
disposition to study may be stated in an equal ratio. Thus, taking
eight as our standard and highest number, I find these qualities in
Dombey stated each at six three-fourths!'

Miss Blimber paused to see how Paul received this news. Being
undecided whether six three-fourths meant six pounds fifteen, or
sixpence three farthings, or six foot three, or three quarters past
six, or six somethings that he hadn't learnt yet, with three unknown
something elses over, Paul rubbed his hands and looked straight at
Miss Blimber. It happened to answer as well as anything else he could
have done; and Cornelia proceeded.

'"Violence two. Selfishness two. Inclination to low company, as
evinced in the case of a person named Glubb, originally seven, but
since reduced. Gentlemanly demeanour four, and improving with
advancing years." Now what I particularly wish to call your attention
to, Dombey, is the general observation at the close of this
analysis.'

Paul set himself to follow it with great care.

'"It may be generally observed of Dombey,"' said Miss Blimber,
reading in a loud voice, and at every second word directing her
spectacles towards the little figure before her: '"that his abilities
and inclinations are good, and that he has made as much progress as
under the circumstances could have been expected. But it is to be
lamented of this young gentleman that he is singular (what is usually
termed old-fashioned) in his character and conduct, and that, without
presenting anything in either which distinctly calls for reprobation,
he is often very unlike other young gentlemen of his age and social
position." Now, Dombey,' said Miss Blimber, laying down the paper,
'do you understand that?'

'I think I do, Ma'am,' said Paul.

'This analysis, you see, Dombey,' Miss Blimber continued, 'is
going to be sent home to your respected parent. It will naturally be
very painful to him to find that you are singular in your character
and conduct. It is naturally painful to us; for we can't like you,
you know, Dombey, as well as we could wish.'

She touched the child upon a tender point. He had secretly
become more and more solicitous from day to day, as the time of his
departure drew more near, that all the house should like him. From
some hidden reason, very imperfectly understood by himself - if
understood at all - he felt a gradually increasing impulse of
affection, towards almost everything and everybody in the place. He
could not bear to think that they would be quite indifferent to him
when he was gone. He wanted them to remember him kindly; and he had
made it his business even to conciliate a great hoarse shaggy dog,
chained up at the back of the house, who had previously been the
terror of his life: that even he might miss him when he was no longer
there.

Little thinking that in this, he only showed again the
difference between himself and his compeers, poor tiny Paul set it
forth to Miss Blimber as well as he could, and begged her, in despite
of the official analysis, to have the goodness to try and like him.
To Mrs Blimber, who had joined them, he preferred the same petition:
and when that lady could not forbear, even in his presence, from
giving utterance to her often-repeated opinion, that he was an odd
child, Paul told her that he was sure she was quite right; that he
thought it must be his bones, but he didn't know; and that he hoped
she would overlook it, for he was fond of them all.

'Not so fond,' said Paul, with a mixture of timidity and perfect
frankness, which was one of the most peculiar and most engaging
qualities of the child, 'not so fond as I am of Florence, of course;
that could never be. You couldn't expect that, could you, Ma'am?'

'Oh! the old-fashioned little soul!' cried Mrs Blimber, in a
whisper.

'But I like everybody here very much,' pursued Paul, 'and I
should grieve to go away, and think that anyone was glad that I was
gone, or didn't care.'

Mrs Blimber was now quite sure that Paul was the oddest child in
the world; and when she told the Doctor what had passed, the Doctor
did not controvert his wife's opinion. But he said, as he had said
before, when Paul first came, that study would do much; and he also
said, as he had said on that occasion, 'Bring him on, Cornelia! Bring
him on!'

Cornelia had always brought him on as vigorously as she could;
and Paul had had a hard life of it. But over and above the getting
through his tasks, he had long had another purpose always present to
him, and to which he still held fast. It was, to be a gentle, useful,
quiet little fellow, always striving to secure the love and
attachment of the rest; and though he was yet often to be seen at his
old post on the stairs, or watching the waves and clouds from his
solitary window, he was oftener found, too, among the other boys,
modestly rendering them some little voluntary service. Thus it came
to pass, that even among those rigid and absorbed young anchorites,
who mortified themselves beneath the roof of Doctor Blimber, Paul was
an object of general interest; a fragile little plaything that they
all liked, and that no one would have thought of treating roughly.
But he could not change his nature, or rewrite the analysis; and so
they all agreed that Dombey was old-fashioned.

There were some immunities, however, attaching to the character
enjoyed by no one else. They could have better spared a
newer-fashioned child, and that alone was much. When the others only
bowed to Doctor Blimber and family on retiring for the night, Paul
would stretch out his morsel of a hand, and boldly shake the
Doctor's; also Mrs Blimber's; also Cornelia's. If anybody was to be
begged off from impending punishment, Paul was always the delegate.
The weak-eyed young man himself had once consulted him, in reference
to a little breakage of glass and china. And it was darKly rumoured
that the butler, regarding him with favour such as that stern man had
never shown before to mortal boy, had sometimes mingled porter with
his table-beer to make him strong.

Over and above these extensive privileges, Paul had free right
of entry to Mr Feeder's room, from which apartment he had twice led
Mr Toots into the open air in a state of faintness, consequent on an
unsuccessful attempt to smoke a very blunt cigar: one of a bundle
which that young gentleman had covertly purchased on the shingle from
a most desperate smuggler, who had acknowledged, in confidence, that
two hundred pounds was the price set upon his head, dead or alive, by
the Custom House. It was a snug room, Mr Feeder's, with his bed in
another little room inside of it; and a flute, which Mr Feeder
couldn't play yet, but was going to make a point of learning, he
said, hanging up over the fireplace. There were some books in it,
too, and a fishing-rod; for Mr Feeder said he should certainly make a
point of learning to fish, when he could find time. Mr Feeder had
amassed, with similar intentions, a beautiful little curly secondhand
key-bugle, a chess-board and men, a Spanish Grammar, a set of
sketching materials, and a pair of boxing-gloves. The art of
self-defence Mr Feeder said he should undoubtedly make a point of
learning, as he considered it the duty of every man to do; for it
might lead to the protection of a female in distress. But Mr Feeder's
great possession was a large green jar of snuff, which Mr Toots had
brought down as a present, at the close of the last vacation; and for
which he had paid a high price, having been the genuine property of
the Prince Regent. Neither Mr Toots nor Mr Feeder could partake of
this or any other snuff, even in the most stinted and moderate
degree, without being seized with convulsions of sneezing.
Nevertheless it was their great delight to moisten a box-full with
cold tea, stir it up on a piece of parchment with a paper-knife, and
devote themselves to its consumption then and there. In the course of
which cramming of their noses, they endured surprising torments with
the constancy of martyrs: and, drinking table-beer at intervals, felt
all the glories of dissipation.

To little Paul sitting silent in their company, and by the side
of his chief patron, Mr Toots, there was a dread charm in these
reckless occasions: and when Mr Feeder spoke of the dark mysteries of
London, and told Mr Toots that he was going to observe it himself
closely in all its ramifications in the approaching holidays, and for
that purpose had made arrangements to board with two old maiden
ladies at Peckham, Paul regarded him as if he were the hero of some
book of travels or wild adventure, and was almost afraid of such a
slashing person.

Going into this room one evening, when the holidays were very
near, Paul found Mr Feeder filling up the blanks in some printed
letters, while some others, already filled up and strewn before him,
were being folded and sealed by Mr Toots. Mr Feeder said, 'Aha,
Dombey, there you are, are you?' - for they were always kind to him,
and glad to see him - and then said, tossing one of the letters
towards him, 'And there you are, too, Dombey. That's yours.'

'Mine, Sir?' said Paul.

'Your invitation,' returned Mr Feeder.

Paul, looking at it, found, in copper-plate print, with the
exception of his own name and the date, which were in Mr Feeder's
penmanship, that Doctor and Mrs Blimber requested the pleasure of Mr
P. Dombey's company at an early party on Wednesday Evening the
Seventeenth Instant; and that the hour was half-past seven o'clock;
and that the object was Quadrilles. Mr Toots also showed him, by
holding up a companion sheet of paper, that Doctor and Mrs Blimber
requested the pleasure of Mr Toots's company at an early party on
Wednesday Evening the Seventeenth Instant, when the hour was
half-past seven o'clock, and when the object was Quadrilles. He also
found, on glancing at the table where Mr Feeder sat, that the
pleasure of Mr Briggs's company, and of Mr Tozer's company, and of
every young gentleman's company, was requested by Doctor and Mrs
Blimber on the same genteel Occasion.

Mr Feeder then told him, to his great joy, that his sister was
invited, and that it was a half-yearly event, and that, as the
holidays began that day, he could go away with his sister after the
party, if he liked, which Paul interrupted him to say he would like,
very much. Mr Feeder then gave him to understand that he would be
expected to inform Doctor and Mrs Blimber, in superfine small-hand,
that Mr P. Dombey would be happy to have the honour of waiting on
them, in accordance with their polite invitation. Lastly, Mr Feeder
said, he had better not refer to the festive occasion, in the hearing
of Doctor and Mrs Blimber; as these preliminaries, and the whole of
the arrangements, were conducted on principles of classicality and
high breeding; and that Doctor and Mrs Blimber on the one hand, and
the young gentlemen on the other, were supposed, in their scholastic
capacities, not to have the least idea of what was in the wind.

Paul thanked Mr Feeder for these hints, and pocketing his
invitation, sat down on a stool by the side of Mr Toots, as usual.
But Paul's head, which had long been ailing more or less, and was
sometimes very heavy and painful, felt so uneasy that night, that he
was obliged to support it on his hand. And yet it dropped so, that by
little and little it sunk on Mr Toots's knee, and rested there, as if
it had no care to be ever lifted up again.

That was no reason why he should be deaf; but he must have been,
he thought, for, by and by, he heard Mr Feeder calling in his ear,
and gently shaking him to rouse his attention. And when he raised his
head, quite scared, and looked about him, he found that Doctor
Blimber had come into the room; and that the window was open, and
that his forehead was wet with sprinkled water; though how all this
had been done without his knowledge, was very curious indeed.

'Ah! Come, come! That's well! How is my little friend now?' said
Doctor Blimber, encouragingly.

'Oh, quite well, thank you, Sir,' said Paul.

But there seemed to be something the matter with the floor, for
he couldn't stand upon it steadily; and with the walls too, for they
were inclined to turn round and round, and could only be stopped by
being looked at very hard indeed. Mr Toots's head had the appearance
of being at once bigger and farther off than was quite natural; and
when he took Paul in his arms, to carry him upstairs, Paul observed
with astonishment that the door was in quite a different place from
that in which he had expected to find it, and almost thought, at
first, that Mr Toots was going to walk straight up the chimney.

It was very kind of Mr Toots to carry him to the top of the
house so tenderly; and Paul told him that it was. But Mr Toots said
he would do a great deal more than that, if he could; and indeed he
did more as it was: for he helped Paul to undress, and helped him to
bed, in the kindest manner possible, and then sat down by the bedside
and chuckled very much; while Mr Feeder, B.A., leaning over the
bottom of the bedstead, set all the little bristles on his head bolt
upright with his bony hands, and then made believe to spar at Paul
with great science, on account of his being all right again, which
was so uncommonly facetious, and kind too in Mr Feeder, that Paul,
not being able to make up his mind whether it was best to laugh or
cry at him, did both at once.

How Mr Toots melted away, and Mr Feeder changed into Mrs
Pipchin, Paul never thought of asking; neither was he at all curious
to know; but when he saw Mrs Pipchin standing at the bottom of the
bed, instead of Mr Feeder, he cried out, 'Mrs Pipchin, don't tell
Florence!'

'Don't tell Florence what, my little Paul?' said Mrs Pipchin,
coming round to the bedside, and sitting down in the chair.

'About me,' said Paul.

'No, no,' said Mrs Pipchin.

'What do you think I mean to do when I grow up, Mrs Pipchin?'
inquired Paul, turning his face towards her on his pillow, and
resting his chin wistfully on his folded hands.

Mrs Pipchin couldn't guess.

'I mean,' said Paul, 'to put my money all together in one Bank,
never try to get any more, go away into the country with my darling
Florence, have a beautiful garden, fields, and woods, and live there
with her all my life!'

'Indeed!' cried Mrs Pipchin.

'Yes,' said Paul. 'That's what I mean to do, when I - ' He
stopped, and pondered for a moment.

Mrs Pipchin's grey eye scanned his thoughtful face.

'If I grow up,' said Paul. Then he went on immediately to tell
Mrs Pipchin all about the party, about Florence's invitation, about
the pride he would have in the admiration that would be felt for her
by all the boys, about their being so kind to him and fond of him,
about his being so fond of them, and about his being so glad of it.
Then he told Mrs Pipchin about the analysis, and about his being
certainly old-fashioned, and took Mrs Pipchin's opinion on that
point, and whether she knew why it was, and what it meant. Mrs
Pipchin denied the fact altogether, as the shortest way of getting
out of the difficulty; but Paul was far from satisfied with that
reply, and looked so searchingly at Mrs Pipchin for a truer answer,
that she was obliged to get up and look out of the window to avoid
his eyes.

There was a certain calm Apothecary, 'who attended at the
establishment when any of the young gentlemen were ill, and somehow
he got into the room and appeared at the bedside, with Mrs Blimber.
How they came there, or how long they had been there, Paul didn't
know; but when he saw them, he sat up in bed, and answered all the
Apothecary's questions at full length, and whispered to him that
Florence was not to know anything about it, if he pleased, and that
he had set his mind upon her coming to the party. He was very chatty
with the Apothecary, and they parted excellent friends. Lying down
again with his eyes shut, he heard the Apothecary say, out of the
room and quite a long way off - or he dreamed it - that there was a
want of vital power (what was that, Paul wondered!) and great
constitutional weakness. That as the little fellow had set his heart
on parting with his school-mates on the seventeenth, it would be
better to indulge the fancy if he grew no worse. That he was glad to
hear from Mrs Pipchin, that the little fellow would go to his friends
in London on the eighteenth. That he would write to Mr Dombey, when
he should have gained a better knowledge of the case, and before that
day. That there was no immediate cause for - what? Paul lost that
word And that the little fellow had a fine mind, but was an
old-fashioned boy.

What old fashion could that be, Paul wondered with a palpitating
heart, that was so visibly expressed in him; so plainly seen by so
many people!

He could neither make it out, nor trouble himself long with the
effort. Mrs Pipchin was again beside him, if she had ever been away
(he thought she had gone out with the Doctor, but it was all a dream
perhaps), and presently a bottle and glass got into her hands
magically, and she poured out the contents for him. After that, he
had some real good jelly, which Mrs Blimber brought to him herself;
and then he was so well, that Mrs Pipchin went home, at his urgent
solicitation, and Briggs and Tozer came to bed. Poor Briggs grumbled
terribly about his own analysis, which could hardly have discomposed
him more if it had been a chemical process; but he was very good to
Paul, and so was Tozer, and so were all the rest, for they every one
looked in before going to bed, and said, 'How are you now, Dombey?'
'Cheer up, little Dombey!' and so forth. After Briggs had got into
bed, he lay awake for a long time, still bemoaning his analysis, and
saying he knew it was all wrong, and they couldn't have analysed a
murderer worse, and - how would Doctor Blimber like it if his
pocket-money depended on it? It was very easy, Briggs said, to make a
galley-slave of a boy all the half-year, and then score him up idle;
and to crib two dinners a-week out of his board, and then score him
up greedy; but that wasn't going to be submitted to, he believed, was
it? Oh! Ah!

Before the weak-eyed young man performed on the gong next
morning, he came upstairs to Paul and told him he was to lie still,
which Paul very gladly did. Mrs Pipchin reappeared a little before
the Apothecary, and a little after the good young woman whom Paul had
seen cleaning the stove on that first morning (how long ago it seemed
now!) had brought him his breakfast. There was another consultation a
long way off, or else Paul dreamed it again; and then the Apothecary,
coming back with Doctor and Mrs Blimber, said:

'Yes, I think, Doctor Blimber, we may release this young
gentleman from his books just now; the vacation being so very near at
hand.'

'By all means,' said Doctor Blimber. 'My love, you will inform
Cornelia, if you please.'

'Assuredly,' said Mrs Blimber.

The Apothecary bending down, looked closely into Paul's eyes,
and felt his head, and his pulse, and his heart, with so much
interest and care, that Paul said, 'Thank you, Sir.'

'Our little friend,' observed Doctor Blimber, 'has never
complained.'

'Oh no!' replied the Apothecary. 'He was not likely to
complain.'

'You find him greatly better?' said Doctor Blimber.

'Oh! he is greatly better, Sir,' returned the Apothecary.

Paul had begun to speculate, in his own odd way, on the subject
that might occupy the Apothecary's mind just at that moment; so
musingly had he answered the two questions of Doctor Blimber. But the
Apothecary happening to meet his little patient's eyes, as the latter
set off on that mental expedition, and coming instantly out of his
abstraction with a cheerful smile, Paul smiled in return and
abandoned it.

He lay in bed all that day, dozing and dreaming, and looking at
Mr Toots; but got up on the next, and went downstairs. Lo and behold,
there was something the matter with the great clock; and a workman on
a pair of steps had taken its face off, and was poking instruments
into the works by the light of a candle! This was a great event for
Paul, who sat down on the bottom stair, and watched the operation
attentively: now and then glancing at the clock face, leaning all
askew, against the wall hard by, and feeling a little confused by a
suspicion that it was ogling him.

The workman on the steps was very civil; and as he said, when he
observed Paul, 'How do you do, Sir?' Paul got into conversation with
him, and told him he hadn't been quite well lately. The ice being
thus broken, Paul asked him a multitude of questions about chimes and
clocks: as, whether people watched up in the lonely church steeples
by night to make them strike, and how the bells were rung when people
died, and whether those were different bells from wedding bells, or
only sounded dismal in the fancies of the living. Finding that his
new acquaintance was not very well informed on the subject of the
Curfew Bell of ancient days, Paul gave him an account of that
institution; and also asked him, as a practical man, what he thought
about King Alfred's idea of measuring time by the burning of candles;
to which the workman replied, that he thought it would be the ruin of
the clock trade if it was to come up again. In fine, Paul looked on,
until the clock had quite recovered its familiar aspect, and resumed
its sedate inquiry; when the workman, putting away his tools in a
long basket, bade him good day, and went away. Though not before he
had whispered something, on the door-mat, to the footman, in which
there was the phrase 'old-fashioned' - for Paul heard it. What could
that old fashion be, that seemed to make the people sorry! What could
it be!

Having nothing to learn now, he thought of this frequently;
though not so often as he might have done, if he had had fewer things
to think of. But he had a great many; and was always thinking, all
day long.

First, there was Florence coming to the party. Florence would
see that the boys were fond of him; and that would make her happy.
This was his great theme. Let Florence once be sure that they were
gentle and good to him, and that he had become a little favourite
among them, and then the would always think of the time he had passed
there, without being very sorry. Florence might be all the happier
too for that, perhaps, when he came back.

When he came back! Fifty times a day, his noiseless little feet
went up the stairs to his own room, as he collected every book, and
scrap, and trifle that belonged to him, and put them all together
there, down to the minutest thing, for taking home! There was no
shade of coming back on little Paul; no preparation for it, or other
reference to it, grew out of anything he thought or did, except this
slight one in connexion with his sister. On the contrary, he had to
think of everything familiar to him, in his contemplative moods and
in his wanderings about the house, as being to be parted with; and
hence the many things he had to think of, all day long.

He had to peep into those rooms upstairs, and think how solitary
they would be when he was gone, and wonder through how many silent
days, weeks, months, and years, they would continue just as grave and
undisturbed. He had to think - would any other child (old-fashioned,
like himself stray there at any time, to whom the same grotesque
distortions of pattern and furniture would manifest themselves; and
would anybody tell that boy of little Dombey, who had been there
once? He had to think of a portrait on the stairs, which always
looked earnestly after him as he went away, eyeing it over his
shoulder; and which, when he passed it in the company of anyone,
still seemed to gaze at him, and not at his companion. He had much to
think of, in association with a print that hung up in another place,
where, in the centre of a wondering group, one figure that he knew, a
figure with a light about its head - benignant, mild, and merciful -
stood pointing upward.

At his own bedroom window, there were crowds of thoughts that
mixed with these, and came on, one upon another, like the rolling
waves. Where those wild birds lived, that were always hovering out at
sea in troubled weather; where the clouds rose and first began;
whence the wind issued on its rushing flight, and where it stopped;
whether the spot where he and Florence had so often sat, and watched,
and talked about these things, could ever be exactly as it used to be
without them; whether it could ever be the same to Florence, if he
were in some distant place, and she were sitting there alone.

He had to think, too, of Mr Toots, and Mr Feeder, B.A., of all
the boys; and of Doctor Blimber, Mrs Blimber, and Miss Blimber; of
home, and of his aunt and Miss Tox; of his father; Dombey and Son,
Walter with the poor old Uncle who had got the money he wanted, and
that gruff-voiced Captain with the iron hand. Besides all this, he
had a number of little visits to pay, in the course of the day; to
the schoolroom, to Doctor Blimber's study, to Mrs Blimber's private
apartment, to Miss Blimber's, and to the dog. For he was free of the
whole house now, to range it as he chose; and, in his desire to part
with everybody on affectionate terms, he attended, in his way, to
them all. Sometimes he found places in books for Briggs, who was
always losing them; sometimes he looked up words in dictionaries for
other young gentlemen who were in extremity; sometimes he held skeins
of silk for Mrs Blimber to wind; sometimes he put Cornelia's desk to
rights; sometimes he would even creep into the Doctor's study, and,
sitting on the carpet near his learned feet, turn the globes softly,
and go round the world, or take a flight among the far-off stars.

In those days immediately before the holidays, in short, when
the other young gentlemen were labouring for dear life through a
general resumption of the studies of the whole half-year, Paul was
such a privileged pupil as had never been seen in that house before.
He could hardly believe it himself; but his liberty lasted from hour
to hour, and from day to day; and little Dombey was caressed by
everyone. Doctor Blimber was so particular about him, that he
requested Johnson to retire from the dinner-table one day, for having
thoughtlessly spoken to him as 'poor little Dombey;' which Paul
thought rather hard and severe, though he had flushed at the moment,
and wondered why Johnson should pity him. It was the more
questionable justice, Paul thought, in the Doctor, from his having
certainly overheard that great authority give his assent on the
previous evening, to the proposition (stated by Mrs Blimber) that
poor dear little Dombey was more old-fashioned than ever. And now it
was that Paul began to think it must surely be old-fashioned to be
very thin, and light, and easily tired, and soon disposed to lie down
anywhere and rest; for he couldn't help feeling that these were more
and more his habits every day.

At last the party-day arrived; and Doctor Blimber said at
breakfast, 'Gentlemen, we will resume our studies on the twenty-fifth
of next month.' Mr Toots immediately threw off his allegiance, and
put on his ring: and mentioning the Doctor in casual conversation
shortly afterwards, spoke of him as 'Blimber'! This act of freedom
inspired the older pupils with admiration and envy; but the younger
spirits were appalled, and seemed to marvel that no beam fell down
and crushed him.

Not the least allusion was made to the ceremonies of the
evening, either at breakfast or at dinner; but there was a bustle in
the house all day, and in the course of his perambulations, Paul made
acquaintance with various strange benches and candlesticks, and met a
harp in a green greatcoat standing on the landing outside the
drawing-room door. There was something queer, too, about Mrs
Blimber's head at dinner-time, as if she had screwed her hair up too
tight; and though Miss Blimber showed a graceful bunch of plaited
hair on each temple, she seemed to have her own little curls in paper
underneath, and in a play-bill too; for Paul read 'Theatre Royal'
over one of her sparkling spectacles, and 'Brighton' over the
other.

There was a grand array of white waistcoats and cravats in the
young gentlemen's bedrooms as evening approached; and such a smell of
singed hair, that Doctor Blimber sent up the footman with his
compliments, and wished to know if the house was on fire. But it was
only the hairdresser curling the young gentlemen, and over-heating
his tongs in the ardour of business.

When Paul was dressed - which was very soon done, for he felt
unwell and drowsy, and was not able to stand about it very long - he
went down into the drawing-room; where he found Doctor Blimber pacing
up and down the room full dressed, but with a dignified and
unconcerned demeanour, as if he thought it barely possible that one
or two people might drop in by and by. Shortly afterwards, Mrs
Blimber appeared, looking lovely, Paul thought; and attired in such a
number of skirts that it was quite an excursion to walk round her.
Miss Blimber came down soon after her Mama; a little squeezed in
appearance, but very charming.

Mr Toots and Mr Feeder were the next arrivals. Each of these
gentlemen brought his hat in his hand, as if he lived somewhere else;
and when they were announced by the butler, Doctor Blimber said, 'Ay,
ay, ay! God bless my soul!' and seemed extremely glad to see them. Mr
Toots was one blaze of jewellery and buttons; and he felt the
circumstance so strongly, that when he had shaken hands with the
Doctor, and had bowed to Mrs Blimber and Miss Blimber, he took Paul
aside, and said, 'What do you think of this, Dombey?'

But notwithstanding this modest confidence in himself, Mr Toots
appeared to be involved in a good deal of uncertainty whether, on the
whole, it was judicious to button the bottom button of his waistcoat,
and whether, on a calm revision of all the circumstances, it was best
to wear his waistbands turned up or turned down. Observing that Mr
Feeder's were turned up, Mr Toots turned his up; but the waistbands
of the next arrival being turned down, Mr Toots turned his down. The
differences in point of waistcoat-buttoning, not only at the bottom,
but at the top too, became so numerous and complicated as the
arrivals thickened, that Mr Toots was continually fingering that
article of dress, as if he were performing on some instrument; and
appeared to find the incessant execution it demanded, quite
bewildering. All the young gentlemen, tightly cravatted, curled, and
pumped, and with their best hats in their hands, having been at
different times announced and introduced, Mr Baps, the
dancing-master, came, accompanied by Mrs Baps, to whom Mrs Blimber
was extremely kind and condescending. Mr Baps was a very grave
gentleman, with a slow and measured manner of speaking; and before he
had stood under the lamp five minutes, he began to talk to Toots (who
had been silently comparing pumps with him) about what you were to do
with your raw materials when they came into your ports in return for
your drain of gold. Mr Toots, to whom the question seemed perplexing,
suggested 'Cook 'em.' But Mr Baps did not appear to think that would
do.

Paul now slipped away from the cushioned corner of a sofa, which
had been his post of observation, and went downstairs into the
tea-room to be ready for Florence, whom he had not seen for nearly a
fortnight, as he had remained at Doctor Blimber's on the previous
Saturday and Sunday, lest he should take cold. Presently she came:
looking so beautiful in her simple ball dress, with her fresh flowers
in her hand, that when she knelt down on the ground to take Paul
round the neck and kiss him (for there was no one there, but his
friend and another young woman waiting to serve out the tea), he
could hardly make up his mind to let her go again, or to take away
her bright and loving eyes from his face.

'But what is the matter, Floy?' asked Paul, almost sure that he
saw a tear there.

'Nothing, darling; nothing,' returned Florence.

Paul touched her cheek gently with his finger - and it was a
tear! 'Why, Floy!' said he.

'We'll go home together, and I'll nurse you, love,' said
Florence.

'Nurse me!' echoed Paul.

Paul couldn't understand what that had to do with it, nor why
the two young women looked on so seriously, nor why Florence turned
away her face for a moment, and then turned it back, lighted up again
with smiles.

'Floy,' said Paul, holding a ringlet of her dark hair in his
hand. 'Tell me, dear, Do you think I have grown old-fashioned?'

His sister laughed, and fondled him, and told him 'No.'

'Because I know they say so,' returned Paul, 'and I want to know
what they mean, Floy.' But a loud double knock coming at the door,
and Florence hurrying to the table, there was no more said between
them. Paul wondered again when he saw his friend whisper to Florence,
as if she were comforting her; but a new arrival put that out of his
head speedily.

It was Sir Barnet Skettles, Lady Skettles, and Master Skettles.
Master Skettles was to be a new boy after the vacation, and Fame had
been busy, in Mr Feeder's room, with his father, who was in the House
of Commons, and of whom Mr Feeder had said that when he did catch the
Speaker's eye (which he had been expected to do for three or four
years), it was anticipated that he would rather touch up the
Radicals.

'And what room is this now, for instance?' said Lady Skettles to
Paul's friend, 'Melia.

'Doctor Blimber's study, Ma'am,' was the reply.

Lady Skettles took a panoramic survey of it through her glass,
and said to Sir Barnet Skettles, with a nod of approval, 'Very good.'
Sir Barnet assented, but Master Skettles looked suspicious and
doubtful.

'And this little creature, now,' said Lady Skettles, turning to
Paul. 'Is he one of the

'Young gentlemen, Ma'am; yes, Ma'am,' said Paul's friend.

'And what is your name, my pale child?' said Lady Skettles.

'Dombey,' answered Paul.

Sir Barnet Skettles immediately interposed, and said that he had
had the honour of meeting Paul's father at a public dinner, and that
he hoped he was very well. Then Paul heard him say to Lady Skettles,
'City - very rich - most respectable - Doctor mentioned it.' And then
he said to Paul, 'Will you tell your good Papa that Sir Barnet
Skettles rejoiced to hear that he was very well, and sent him his
best compliments?'

'Yes, Sir,' answered Paul.

'That is my brave boy,' said Sir Barnet Skettles. 'Barnet,' to
Master Skettles, who was revenging himself for the studies to come,
on the plum-cake, 'this is a young gentleman you ought to know. This
is a young gentleman you may know, Barnet,' said Sir Barnet Skettles,
with an emphasis on the permission.

'What eyes! What hair! What a lovely face!' exclaimed Lady
Skettles softly, as she looked at Florence through her glass. 'My
sister,' said Paul, presenting her.

The satisfaction of the Skettleses was now complex And as Lady
Skettles had conceived, at first sight, a liking for Paul, they all
went upstairs together: Sir Barnet Skettles taking care of Florence,
and young Barnet following.

Young Barnet did not remain long in the background after they
had reached the drawing-room, for Dr Blimber had him out in no time,
dancing with Florence. He did not appear to Paul to be particularly
happy, or particularly anything but sulky, or to care much what he
was about; but as Paul heard Lady Skettles say to Mrs Blimber, while
she beat time with her fan, that her dear boy was evidently smitten
to death by that angel of a child, Miss Dombey, it would seem that
Skettles Junior was in a state of bliss, without showing it.

Little Paul thought it a singular coincidence that nobody had
occupied his place among the pillows; and that when he came into the
room again, they should all make way for him to go back to it,
remembering it was his. Nobody stood before him either, when they
observed that he liked to see Florence dancing, but they left the
space in front quite clear, so that he might follow her with his
eyes. They were so kind, too, even the strangers, of whom there were
soon a great many, that they came and spoke to him every now and
then, and asked him how he was, and if his head ached, and whether he
was tired. He was very much obliged to them for all their kindness
and attention, and reclining propped up in his corner, with Mrs
Blimber and Lady Skettles on the same sofa, and Florence coming and
sitting by his side as soon as every dance was ended, he looked on
very happily indeed.

Florence would have sat by him all night, and would not have
danced at all of her own accord, but Paul made her, by telling her
how much it pleased him. And he told her the truth, too; for his
small heart swelled, and his face glowed, when he saw how much they
all admired her, and how she was the beautiful little rosebud of the
room.

From his nest among the pillows, Paul could see and hear almost
everything that passed as if the whole were being done for his
amusement. Among other little incidents that he observed, he observed
Mr Baps the dancing-master get into conversation with Sir Barnet
Skettles, and very soon ask him, as he had asked Mr Toots, what you
were to do with your raw materials, when they came into your ports in
return for your drain of gold - which was such a mystery to Paul that
he was quite desirous to know what ought to be done with them. Sir
Barnet Skettles had much to say upon the question, and said it; but
it did not appear to solve the question, for Mr Baps retorted, Yes,
but supposing Russia stepped in with her tallows; which struck Sir
Barnet almost dumb, for he could only shake his head after that, and
say, Why then you must fall back upon your cottons, he supposed.

Sir Barnet Skettles looked after Mr Baps when he went to cheer
up Mrs Baps (who, being quite deserted, was pretending to look over
the music-book of the gentleman who played the harp), as if he
thought him a remarkable kind of man; and shortly afterwards he said
so in those words to Doctor Blimber, and inquired if he might take
the liberty of asking who he was, and whether he had ever been in the
Board of Trade. Doctor Blimber answered no, he believed not; and that
in fact he was a Professor of - '

'Of something connected with statistics, I'll swear?' observed
Sir Barnet Skettles.

'Why no, Sir Barnet,' replied Doctor Blimber, rubbing his chin.
'No, not exactly.'

'Figures of some sort, I would venture a bet,' said Sir Barnet
Skettles.

'Why yes,' said Doctor Blimber, yes, but not of that sort. Mr
Baps is a very worthy sort of man, Sir Barnet, and - in fact he's our
Professor of dancing.'

Paul was amazed to see that this piece of information quite
altered Sir Barnet Skettles's opinion of Mr Baps, and that Sir Barnet
flew into a perfect rage, and glowered at Mr Baps over on the other
side of the room. He even went so far as to D Mr Baps to Lady
Skettles, in telling her what had happened, and to say that it was
like his most con-sum-mate and con-foun-ded impudence.

There was another thing that Paul observed. Mr Feeder, after
imbibing several custard-cups of negus, began to enjoy himself. The
dancing in general was ceremonious, and the music rather solemn - a
little like church music in fact - but after the custard-cups, Mr
Feeder told Mr Toots that he was going to throw a little spirit into
the thing. After that, Mr Feeder not only began to dance as if he
meant dancing and nothing else, but secretly to stimulate the music
to perform wild tunes. Further, he became particular in his
attentions to the ladies; and dancing with Miss Blimber, whispered to
her - whispered to her! - though not so softly but that Paul heard
him say this remarkable poetry,

'Had I a heart for falsehood framed,
I ne'er could injure You!' This, Paul heard him repeat to four
young ladies, in succession. Well might Mr Feeder say to Mr Toots,
that he was afraid he should be the worse for it to-morrow!

Mrs Blimber was a little alarmed by this - comparatively
speaking - profligate behaviour; and especially by the alteration in
the character of the music, which, beginning to comprehend low
melodies that were popular in the streets, might not unnaturally be
supposed to give offence to Lady Skettles. But Lady Skettles was so
very kind as to beg Mrs Blimber not to mention it; and to receive her
explanation that Mr Feeder's spirits sometimes betrayed him into
excesses on these occasions, with the greatest courtesy and
politeness; observing, that he seemed a very nice sort of person for
his situation, and that she particularly liked the unassuming style
of his hair - which (as already hinted) was about a quarter of an
inch long.

Once, when there was a pause in the dancing, Lady Skettles told
Paul that he seemed very fond of music. Paul replied, that he was;
and if she was too, she ought to hear his sister, Florence, sing.
Lady Skettles presently discovered that she was dying with anxiety to
have that gratification; and though Florence was at first very much
frightened at being asked to sing before so many people, and begged
earnestly to be excused, yet, on Paul calling her to him, and saying,
'Do, Floy! Please! For me, my dear!' she went straight to the piano,
and began. When they all drew a little away, that Paul might see her;
and when he saw her sitting there all alone, so young, and good, and
beautiful, and kind to him; and heard her thrilling voice, so natural
and sweet, and such a golden link between him and all his life's love
and happiness, rising out of the silence; he turned his face away,
and hid his tears. Not, as he told them when they spoke to him, not
that the music was too plaintive or too sorrowful, but it was so dear
to him.

They all loved Florence. How could they help it! Paul had known
beforehand that they must and would; and sitting in his cushioned
corner, with calmly folded hands; and one leg loosely doubled under
him, few would have thought what triumph and delight expanded his
childish bosom while he watched her, or what a sweet tranquillity he
felt. Lavish encomiums on 'Dombey's sister' reached his ears from all
the boys: admiration of the self-possessed and modest little beauty
was on every lip: reports of her intelligence and accomplishments
floated past him, constantly; and, as if borne in upon the air of the
summer night, there was a half intelligible sentiment diffused
around, referring to Florence and himself, and breathing sympathy for
both, that soothed and touched him.

He did not know why. For all that the child observed, and felt,
and thought, that night - the present and the absent; what was then
and what had been - were blended like the colours in the rainbow, or
in the plumage of rich birds when the sun is shining on them, or in
the softening sky when the same sun is setting. The many things he
had had to think of lately, passed before him in the music; not as
claiming his attention over again, or as likely evermore to occupy
it, but as peacefully disposed of and gone. A solitary window, gazed
through years ago, looked out upon an ocean, miles and miles away;
upon its waters, fancies, busy with him only yesterday, were hushed
and lulled to rest like broken waves. The same mysterious murmur he
had wondered at, when lying on his couch upon the beach, he thought
he still heard sounding through his sister's song, and through the
hum of voices, and the tread of feet, and having some part in the
faces flitting by, and even in the heavy gentleness of Mr Toots, who
frequently came up to shake him by the hand. Through the universal
kindness he still thought he heard it, speaking to him; and even his
old-fashioned reputation seemed to be allied to it, he knew not how.
Thus little Paul sat musing, listening, looking on, and dreaming; and
was very happy.

Until the time arrived for taking leave: and then, indeed, there
was a sensation in the party. Sir Barnet Skettles brought up Skettles
Junior to shake hands with him, and asked him if he would remember to
tell his good Papa, with his best compliments, that he, Sir Barnet
Skettles, had said he hoped the two young gentlemen would become
intimately acquainted. Lady Skettles kissed him, and patted his hair
upon his brow, and held him in her arms; and even Mrs Baps - poor Mrs
Baps! Paul was glad of that - came over from beside the music-book of
the gentleman who played the harp, and took leave of him quite as
heartily as anybody in the room.

'Good-bye, Doctor Blimber,' said Paul, stretching out his
hand.

'Good-bye, my little friend,' returned the Doctor.

'I'm very much obliged to you, Sir,' said Paul, looking
innocently up into his awful face. 'Ask them to take care of
Diogenes, if you please.'

Diogenes was the dog: who had never in his life received a
friend into his confidence, before Paul. The Doctor promised that
every attention should he paid to Diogenes in Paul's absence, and
Paul having again thanked him, and shaken hands with him, bade adieu
to Mrs Blimber and Cornelia with such heartfelt earnestness that Mrs
Blimber forgot from that moment to mention Cicero to Lady Skettles,
though she had fully intended it all the evening. Cornelia, taking
both Paul's hands in hers, said,'Dombey, Dombey, you have always been
my favourite pupil. God bless you!' And it showed, Paul thought, how
easily one might do injustice to a person; for Miss Blimber meant it
- though she was a Forcer - and felt it.

A boy then went round among the young gentlemen, of 'Dombey's
going!' 'Little Dombey's going!' and there was a general move after
Paul and Florence down the staircase and into the hall, in which the
whole Blimber family were included. Such a circumstance, Mr Feeder
said aloud, as had never happened in the case of any former young
gentleman within his experience; but it would be difficult to say if
this were sober fact or custard-cups. The servants, with the butler
at their head, had all an interest in seeing Little Dombey go; and
even the weak-eyed young man, taking out his books and trunks to the
coach that was to carry him and Florence to Mrs Pipchin's for the
night, melted visibly.

Not even the influence of the softer passion on the young
gentlemen - and they all, to a boy, doted on Florence - could
restrain them from taking quite a noisy leave of Paul; waving hats
after him, pressing downstairs to shake hands with him, crying
individually 'Dombey, don't forget me!' and indulging in many such
ebullitions of feeling, uncommon among those young Chesterfields.
Paul whispered Florence, as she wrapped him up before the door was
opened, Did she hear them? Would she ever forget it? Was she glad to
know it? And a lively delight was in his eyes as he spoke to her.

Once, for a last look, he turned and gazed upon the faces thus
addressed to him, surprised to see how shining and how bright, and
numerous they were, and how they were all piled and heaped up, as
faces are at crowded theatres. They swam before him as he looked,
like faces in an agitated glass; and next moment he was in the dark
coach outside, holding close to Florence. From that time, whenever he
thought of Doctor Blimber's, it came back as he had seen it in this
last view; and it never seemed to be a real place again, but always a
dream, full of eyes.

This was not quite the last of Doctor Blimber's, however. There
was something else. There was Mr Toots. Who, unexpectedly letting
down one of the coach-windows, and looking in, said, with a most
egregious chuckle, 'Is Dombey there?' and immediately put it up
again, without waiting for an answer. Nor was this quite the last of
Mr Toots, even; for before the coachman could drive off, he as
suddenly let down the other window, and looking in with a precisely
similar chuckle, said in a precisely similar tone of voice, 'Is
Dombey there?' and disappeared precisely as before.

How Florence laughed! Paul often remembered it, and laughed
himself whenever he did so.

But there was much, soon afterwards - next day, and after that -
which Paul could only recollect confusedly. As, why they stayed at
Mrs Pipchin's days and nights, instead of going home; why he lay in
bed, with Florence sitting by his side; whether that had been his
father in the room, or only a tall shadow on the wall; whether he had
heard his doctor say, of someone, that if they had removed him before
the occasion on which he had built up fancies, strong in proportion
to his own weakness, it was very possible he might have pined
away.

He could not even remember whether he had often said to
Florence, 'Oh Floy, take me home, and never leave me!' but he thought
he had. He fancied sometimes he had heard himself repeating, 'Take me
home, Floy! take me home!'

But he could remember, when he got home, and was carried up the
well-remembered stairs, that there had been the rumbling of a coach
for many hours together, while he lay upon the seat, with Florence
still beside him, and old Mrs Pipchin sitting opposite. He remembered
his old bed too, when they laid him down in it: his aunt, Miss Tox,
and Susan: but there was something else, and recent too, that still
perplexed him.

'I want to speak to Florence, if you please,' he said. 'To
Florence by herself, for a moment!'

She bent down over him, and the others stood away.

'Floy, my pet, wasn't that Papa in the hall, when they brought
me from the coach?'

'Yes, dear.'

'He didn't cry, and go into his room, Floy, did he, when he saw
me coming in?'

Florence shook her head, and pressed her lips against his
cheek.

'I'm very glad he didn't cry,' said little Paul. 'I thought he
did. Don't tell them that I asked.'