servant。 Jeremiah； the captain deserts the ship； but you and I will sink
or float with it。'
Jeremiah； whose eyes glistened as if they saw money； darted a sudden
look at the son； which seemed to say； 'I owe YOU no thanks for this； YOU
have done nothing towards it！' and then told the mother that he thanked
her； and that Affery thanked her； and that he would never desert her；
and that Affery would never desert her。 Finally； he hauled up his watch
from its depths； and said； 'Eleven。 Time for your oysters！' and with
that change of subject； which involved no change of expression or
manner； rang the bell。
But Mrs Clennam； resolved to treat herself with the greater rigour for
having been supposed to be unacquainted with reparation； refused to
eat her oysters when they were brought。 They looked tempting； eight in
number； circularly set out on a white plate on a tray covered with a
white napkin； flanked by a slice of buttered French roll； and a little
pact glass of cool wine and water； but she resisted all persuasions；
and sent them down again……placing the act to her credit； no doubt； in
her Eternal Day…Book。
This refection of oysters was not presided over by Affery； but by the
girl who had appeared when the bell was rung； the same who had been in
the dimly…lighted room last night。 Now that he had an opportunity of
observing her； Arthur found that her diminutive figure； small features；
and slight spare dress； gave her the appearance of being much younger
than she was。 A woman； probably of not less than two…and…twenty； she
might have been passed in the street for little more than half that
age。 Not that her face was very youthful； for in truth there was more
consideration and care in it than naturally belonged to her utmost
years； but she was so little and light； so noiseless and shy； and
appeared so conscious of being out of place among the three hard elders；
that she had all the manner and much of the appearance of a subdued
child。
In a hard way； and in an uncertain way that fluctuated between patronage
and putting down； the sprinkling from a watering…pot and hydraulic
pressure； Mrs Clennam showed an interest in this dependent。 Even in the
moment of her entrance； upon the violent ringing of the bell； when the
mother shielded herself with that singular action from the son； Mrs
Clennam's eyes had had some individual recognition in them； which seemed
reserved for her。 As there are degrees of hardness in the hardest metal；
and shades of colour in black itself； so； even in the asperity of Mrs
Clennam's demeanour towards all the rest of humanity and towards Little
Dorrit； there was a fine gradation。
Little Dorrit let herself out to do needlework。 At so much a day……or at
so little……from eight to eight； Little Dorrit was to be hired。 Punctual
to the moment； Little Dorrit appeared； punctual to the moment； Little
Dorrit vanished。 What became of Little Dorrit between the two eights was
a mystery。
Another of the moral phenomena of Little Dorrit。 Besides her
consideration money； her daily contract included meals。 She had an
extraordinary repugnance to dining in pany； would never do so； if
it were possible to escape。 Would always plead that she had this bit of
work to begin first； or that bit of work to finish first； and would； of
a certainty； scheme and plan……not very cunningly； it would seem； for she
deceived no one……to dine alone。 Successful in this； happy in carrying
off her plate anywhere； to make a table of her lap； or a box； or the
ground； or even as was supposed； to stand on tip…toe； dining moderately
at a mantel…shelf； the great anxiety of Little Dorrit's day was set at
rest。
It was not easy to make out Little Dorrit's face； she was so retiring；
plied her needle in such removed corners； and started away so scared if
encountered on the stairs。 But it seemed to be a pale transparent face；
quick in expression； though not beautiful in feature； its soft hazel
eyes excepted。 A delicately bent head； a tiny form； a quick little pair
of busy hands； and a shabby dress……it must needs have been very shabby
to look at all so； being so neat……were Little Dorrit as she sat at work。
For these particulars or generalities concerning Little Dorrit； Mr
Arthur was indebted in the course of the day to his own eyes and to Mrs
Affery's tongue。 If Mrs Affery had had any will or way of her own； it
would probably have been unfavourable to Little Dorrit。 But as 'them two
clever ones'……Mrs Affery's perpetual reference； in whom her personality
was swallowed up……were agreed to accept Little Dorrit as a matter of
course； she had nothing for it but to follow suit。 Similarly； if the
two clever ones had agreed to murder Little Dorrit by candlelight； Mrs
Affery； being required to hold the candle； would no doubt have done it。
In the intervals of roasting the partridge for the invalid chamber； and
preparing a baking…dish of beef and pudding for the dining…room； Mrs
Affery made the munications above set forth； invariably putting
her head in at the door again after she had taken it out； to enforce
resistance to the two clever ones。 It appeared to have bee a perfect
passion with Mrs Flintwinch； that the only son should be pitted against
them。
In the course of the day； too； Arthur looked through the whole house。
Dull and dark he found it。 The gaunt rooms； deserted for years upon
years； seemed to have settled down into a gloomy lethargy from which
nothing could rouse them again。 The furniture； at once spare and
lumbering； hid in the rooms rather than furnished them； and there was
no colour in all the house； such colour as had ever been there； had long
ago started away on lost sunbeams……got itself absorbed； perhaps； into
flowers； butterflies； plumage of birds； precious stones； what not。 There
was not one straight floor from the foundation to the roof； the ceilings
were so fantastically clouded by smoke and dust； that old women might
have told fortunes in them better than in grouts of tea； the dead…cold
hearths showed no traces of having ever been warmed but in heaps of soot
that had tumbled down the chimneys； and eddied about in little
dusky whirlwinds when the doors were opened。 In what had once been
a drawing…room； there were a pair of meagre mirrors； with dismal
processions of black figures carrying black garlands； walking round
the frames； but even these were short of heads and legs； and one
undertaker…like Cupid had swung round on its own axis and got upside
down； and another had fallen off altogether。 The room Arthur Clennam's
deceased father had occupied for business purposes； when he first
remembered him； was so unaltered that he might have been imagined still
to keep it invisibly； as his visible relict kept her room up…stairs；
Jeremiah Flintwinch still going between them negotiating。 His picture；
dark and gloomy； earnestly speechless on the wall； with the eyes
intently looking at his son as they had looked when life departed from
them； seemed to urge him awfully to the task he had attempted； but as
to any yielding on the part of his mother； he had now no hope； and as to
any other means of setting his distrust at rest； he had abandoned hope a
long time。