The girl is now waiting to know, said Mrs Sparsit, whether she is to go straight to the school, or up to the Lodge.
She must wait, maam, answered Bounderby, till I know myself. We shall have Tom Gradgrind down here presently, I suppose. If he should wish her to remain here a day or two longer, of course she can, maam.
Of course she can if you wish it, Mr Bounderby.
I told him I would give her a shake-down here, last night, in order that he might sleep on it before he decided to let her have any association with Louisa.
Indeed, Mr Bounderby? Very thoughtful of you! Mrs Sparsits Coriolanian nose underwent a slight expansion of the nostrils, and her black eyebrows contracted as she took a sip of tea.
Its tolerably clear to me, said Bounderby, that the little puss can get small good out of such companionship.
Are you speaking of young Miss Gradgrind, Mr Bounderby?
Yes, maam, Im speaking of Louisa.
Your observation being limited to little puss, said Mrs Sparsit, and there being two little girls in question, I did not know which might be indicated by that expression.
Louisa, repeated Mr Bounderby. Louisa, Louisa.
You are quite another father to Louisa, sir. Mrs Sparsit took a little more tea; and, as she bent her again contracted eyebrows over her steaming cup, rather looked as if her classical countenance were invoking the infernal gods.
If you had said I was another father to Tom young Tom, I mean, not my friend Tom Gradgrind you might have been nearer the mark. I am going to take young Tom into my office. Going to have him under my wings maam.
Indeed? Rather young for that, is he not, sir? Mrs Spirits sir, in addressing Mr Bounderby, was a word of ceremony, rather exacting consideration for herself in the use than honouring him.
Im not going to take him at once; he is to finish his educational cramming before then, said Bounderby. By the Lord Harry, hell have enough of it, first and last! Hed open his eyes, that boy would, if he knew how empty of learning my young maw was, at his time of life. Which, by-the-bye, he probably did know, for he had heard of it often enough. But its extraordinary the difficulty I have on scores of such subjects, in speaking to any one on equal terms. Here, for example, I have been speaking to you this morning about tumblers. Why, what do you know about tumblers? At the time when, to have been a tumbler in the mud of the streets, would have been a godsend to me, a prize in the lottery to me, you were at the Italian Opera. You were coming out of the Italian Opera, maam, in white satin and jewels, a blaze of splendour, when I hadnt a penny to buy a link to light you.
I certainly, sir, returned Mrs Sparsit, with a dignity serenely mournful, was familiar with the Italian Opera at a very early age.
Egad, maam, so was I, said Bounderby, with the wrong side of it. A hard bed the pavement of its Arcade used to make, I assure you. People like you, maam, accustomed from infancy to lie on Down feathers, have no idea how hard a paving-stone is, without trying it. No, no, its of no use my talking to you about tumblers. I should speak of foreign dancers, and the West End of London, and May Fair, and lords and ladies and honourables.
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