Little Dorrit by Charles Dickens (suggested reading .TXT) 📕

other day when I showed you our papers in the Prison yard, or say that very day, nobody but ourselves would have been cruelly disappointed, or a penny the worse.”

Clennam, who had been almost incessantly shaking hands with him throughout the narrative, was reminded by this to say, in an amazement which even the preparation he had had for the main disclosure smoothed down, “My dear Mr. Pancks, this must have cost you a great sum of money.”

“Pretty well, sir,” said the triumphant Pancks. “No trifle, though we did it as cheap as it could be done. And the outlay was a difficulty, let me tell you.”

“A difficulty!” repeated Clennam. “But the difficulties you have so wonderfully conquered in the whole business!” shaking his hand again.

“I’ll tell you how I did it,” said the delighted Pancks, putting his hair into a condition as elevated as himself. “First, I spent all I had of my own. That wasn’t much.”

“I am sorry for it,” said Clennam: “not that it matters now, though. Then, what did you do?”

“Then,” answered Pancks, “I borrowed a sum of my proprietor.”

“Of Mr. Casby?” said Clennam. “He’s a fine old fellow.”

“Noble old boy; an’t he?” said Mr. Pancks, entering on a series of the dryest snorts. “Generous old buck. Confiding old boy. Philanthropic old buck. Benevolent old boy! Twenty percent. I engaged to pay him, sir. But we never do business for less at our shop.”

Arthur felt an awkward consciousness of having, in his exultant condition, been a little premature.

“I said to that boiling-over old Christian,” Mr. Pancks pursued, appearing greatly to relish this descriptive epithet, “that I had got a little project on hand; a hopeful one; I told him a hopeful one; which wanted a certain small capital. I proposed to him to lend me the money on my note. Which he did, at twenty; sticking the twenty on in a businesslike way, and putting it into the note, to look like a part of the principal. If I had broken down after that, I should have been his grubber for the next seven years at half wages and double grind. But he’s a perfect Patriarch; and it would do a man good to serve him on such terms⁠—on any terms.”

Arthur for his life could not have said with confidence whether Pancks really thought so or not.

“When that was gone, sir,” resumed Pancks, “and it did go, though I dribbled it out like so much blood, I had taken Mr. Rugg into the secret. I proposed to borrow of Mr. Rugg (or of Miss Rugg; it’s the same thing; she made a little money by a speculation in the Common Pleas once). He lent it at ten, and thought that pretty high. But Mr. Rugg’s a red-haired man, sir, and gets his hair cut. And as to the crown of his hat, it’s high. And as to the brim of his hat, it’s narrow. And there’s no more benevolence bubbling out of him, than out of a ninepin.”

“Your own recompense for all this, Mr. Pancks,” said Clennam, “ought to be a large one.”

“I don’t mistrust getting it, sir,” said Pancks. “I have made no bargain. I owed you one on that score; now I have paid it. Money out of pocket made good, time fairly allowed for, and Mr. Rugg’s bill settled, a thousand pounds would be a fortune to me. That matter I place in your hands. I authorize you now to break all this to the family in any way you think best. Miss Amy Dorrit will be with Mrs. Finching this morning. The sooner done the better. Can’t be done too soon.”

This conversation took place in Clennam’s bedroom, while he was yet in bed. For Mr. Pancks had knocked up the house and made his way in, very early in the morning; and, without once sitting down or standing still, had delivered himself of the whole of his details (illustrated with a variety of documents) at the bedside. He now said he would “go and look up Mr. Rugg,” from whom his excited state of mind appeared to require another back; and bundling up his papers, and exchanging one more hearty shake of the hand with Clennam, he went at full speed downstairs, and steamed off.

Clennam, of course, resolved to go direct to Mr. Casby’s. He dressed and got out so quickly that he found himself at the corner of the patriarchal street nearly an hour before her time; but he was not sorry to have the opportunity of calming himself with a leisurely walk.

When he returned to the street, and had knocked at the bright brass knocker, he was informed that she had come, and was shown upstairs to Flora’s breakfast-room. Little Dorrit was not there herself, but Flora was, and testified the greatest amazement at seeing him.

“Good gracious, Arthur⁠—Doyce and Clennam!” cried that lady, “who would have ever thought of seeing such a sight as this and pray excuse a wrapper for upon my word I really never and a faded check too which is worse but our little friend is making me, not that I need mind mentioning it to you for you must know that there are such things a skirt, and having arranged that a trying on should take place after breakfast is the reason though I wish not so badly starched.”

“I ought to make an apology,” said Arthur, “for so early and abrupt a visit; but you will excuse it when I tell you the cause.”

“In times forever fled Arthur,” returned Mrs. Finching, “pray excuse me Doyce and Clennam infinitely more correct and though unquestionably distant still ’tis distance lends enchantment to the view, at least I don’t mean that and if I did I suppose it would depend considerably on the nature of the view, but I’m running on again and you put it all out of my head.”

She glanced at him tenderly, and resumed:

“In times forever fled I was going to say it would have sounded strange indeed for Arthur Clennam⁠—Doyce and Clennam naturally quite different⁠—to make apologies for