certain it was he. I never was so frightened in my life as when I made the discovery, for he caught my glance, and appearing to read my thoughts, gave such a look at the door that I thought we had lost him.

However, I am happy to say he remained where he was, and asked me what I thought of Mrs Jellyby?

“She exerts herself very much for Africa, sir,” I said.

“Nobly!” returned Mr Jarndyce. “But you answer like Ada.” Whom I had not heard. “You all think something else, I see.”

“We rather thought,” said I, glancing at Richard and Ada, who entreated me with their eyes to speak, “that perhaps she was a little unmindful of her home.”

“Floored!” cried Mr Jarndyce.

I was rather alarmed again.

“Well! I want to know your real thoughts, my dear. I may have sent you there on purpose.”

“We thought that, perhaps,” said I, hesitating, “it is right to begin with the obligations of home, sir; and that, perhaps, while those are overlooked and neglected, no other duties can possibly be substituted for them.”

“The little Jellybys,” said Richard, coming to my relief, “are really — I can’t help expressing myself strongly, sir — in a devil of a state.”

“She means well,” said Mr Jarndyce, hastily. “The wind’s in the east.”

“It was in the north, sir, as we came down,” observed Richard.

“My dear Rick,” said Mr Jarndyce, poking the fire, “I’ll take an oath it’s either in the east, or going to be. I am always conscious of an uncomfortable sensation now and then when the wind is blowing in the east.”

“Rheumatism, sir?” said Richard.

“I dare say it is, Rick. I believe it is. And so the little Jell — I had my doubts about ’em — are in a — oh, Lord, yes, it’s easterly!” said Mr Jarndyce.

He had taken two or three undecided turns up and down while uttering these broken sentences, retaining the poker in one hand and rubbing his hair with the other, with a good-natured vexation at once so whimsical and so lovable, that I am sure we were more delighted with him than we could possibly have expressed in any words. He gave an arm to Ada and an arm to me, and bidding Richard bring a candle, was leading the way out when he suddenly turned us all back again.

“Those little Jellybys. Couldn’t you — didn’t you — now, if it had rained sugar-plums, or three-cornered raspberry tarts, or anything of that sort!” said Mr Jarndyce.

“O cousin—!” Ada hastily began.

“Good, my pretty pet. I like cousin. Cousin John, perhaps, is better.”

“Then, cousin John!—” Ada laughingly began again.

“Ha, ha! Very good indeed!” said Mr Jarndyce, with great enjoyment. “Sounds uncommonly natural. Yes, my dear?”


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