Mostly, Prunes and Prism
Mrs General, always on her coach-box keeping the proprieties well together, took pains to form a surface on her very dear young friend, and Mrs Generals very dear young friend tried hard to receive it. Hard as she had tried in her laborious life to attain many ends, she had never tried harder than she did now, to be varnished by Mrs General. It made her anxious and ill at ease to be operated upon by that smoothing hand, it is true; but she submitted herself to the family want in its greatness as she had submitted herself to the family want in its littleness, and yielded to her own inclinations in this thing no more than she had yielded to her hunger itself, in the days when she had saved her dinner that her father might have his supper.
One comfort that she had under the Ordeal by General was more sustaining to her, and made her more grateful than to a less devoted and affectionate spirit, not habituated to her struggles and sacrifices, might appear quite reasonable; and, indeed, it may often be observed in life, that spirits like Little Dorrit do not appear to reason half as carefully as the folks who get the better of them. The continued kindness of her sister was this comfort to Little Dorrit. It was nothing to her that the kindness took the form of tolerant patronage; she was used to that. It was nothing to her that it kept her in a tributary position, and showed her in attendance on the flaming car in which Miss Fanny sat on an elevated seat, exacting homage; she sought no better place. Always admiring Fannys beauty, and grace, and readiness, and not now asking herself how much of her disposition to be strongly attached to Fanny was due to her own heart, and how much to Fannys, she gave her all the sisterly fondness her great heart contained.
The wholesale amount of Prunes and Prism which Mrs General infused into the family life, combined with the perpetual plunges made by Fanny into society, left but a very small residue of any natural deposit at the bottom of the mixture. This rendered confidences with Fanny doubly precious to Little Dorrit, and heightened the relief they afforded her.
Amy, said Fanny to her one night when they were alone, after a day so tiring that Little Dorrit was quite worn out, though Fanny would have taken another dip into society with the greatest pleasure in life, I am going to put something into your little head. You wont guess what it is, I suspect.
I dont think thats likely, dear, said Little Dorrit.
Come, Ill give you a clue, child, said Fanny. Mrs General.
Prunes and Prism, in a thousand combinations, having been wearily in the ascendant all dayeverything having been surface and varnish and show without substanceLittle Dorrit looked as if she had hoped that Mrs General was safely tucked up in bed for some hours.
Now, can you guess, Amy? said Fanny.
No, dear. Unless I have done anything, said Little Dorrit, rather alarmed, and meaning anything calculated to crack varnish and ruffle surface.
Fanny was so very much amused by the misgiving, that she took up her favourite fan (being then seated at her dressing-table with her armoury of cruel instruments about her, most of them reeking from the heart of Sparkler), and tapped her sister frequently on the nose with it, laughing all the time.
Oh, our Amy, our Amy! said Fanny. What a timid little goose our Amy is! But this is nothing to laugh at. On the contrary, I am very cross, my dear.
As it is not with me, Fanny, I dont mind, returned her sister, smiling.
Ah! But I do mind, said Fanny, and so will you, Pet, when I enlighten you. Amy, has it never struck you that somebody is monstrously polite to Mrs General?
Everybody is polite to Mrs General, said Little Dorrit. Because
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