Ma, because I never could be happy without it. I never, never could!’ sobbed Caddy, quite forgetful of her general complainings, and of everything but her natural affection.
‘You see again, Miss Summerson,’ observed Mrs Jellyby, serenely, ‘what a happiness it is to be so much occupied as I am, and to have this necessity for self-concentration that I have. Here is Caddy engaged to a dancing-master’s son — mixed up with people who have no more sympathy with the destinies of the human race, than she has herself! This, too, when Mr Quale, one of the first philanthropists of our time, has mentioned to me that he was really disposed to be interested in her!’
‘Ma, I always hated and detested Mr Quale!’ sobbed Caddy.
‘Caddy, Caddy!’ returned Mrs Jellyby, opening another letter with the greatest complacency. ‘I have no doubt you did. How could you do otherwise, being totally destitute of the sympathies with which he overflows! Now, if my public duties were not a favourite child to me, if I were not occupied with large measures on a vast scale, these petty details might grieve me very much, Miss Summerson. But can I permit the film of a silly proceeding on the part of Caddy (from whom I expect nothing else), to interpose between me and the great African continent? No. No,’ repeated Mrs Jellyby, in a calm clear voice, and with an agreeable smile as she opened more letters and sorted them. ‘No, indeed.’
I was so unprepared for the perfect coolness of this reception, though I might have expected it, that I did not know what to say. Caddy seemed equally at a loss. Mrs Jellyby continued to open and sort letters; and to repeat occasionally, in quite a charming tone of voice, and with a smile of perfect composure, ‘No, indeed.’
‘I hope, Ma,’ sobbed poor Caddy at last, ‘you are not angry?’
‘O Caddy, you really are an absurd girl,’ returned Mrs Jellyby, ‘to ask such questions, after what I have said of the preoccupation of my mind.’
‘And I hope, Ma, you give us your consent, and wish us well?’ said Caddy.
‘You are a nonsensical child, to have done anything of this kind,’ said Mrs Jellyby; ‘and a degenerate child, when you might have devoted yourself to the great public measure. But the step is taken, and I have engaged a boy, and there is no more to be said. Now, pray, Caddy,’ said Mrs Jellyby — for Caddy was kissing her, ‘don’t delay me in my work, but let me clear off this heavy batch of papers before the afternoon post comes in!’
I thought I could not do better than take my leave; I was detained for a moment by Caddy’s saying,
‘You won’t object to my bringing him to see you, Ma?’
‘O dear me, Caddy,’ cried Mrs Jellyby, who had relapsed into that distant contemplation, ‘have you begun again? Bring whom?’
‘Him, Ma.’
‘Caddy, Caddy!’ said Mrs Jellyby, quite weary of such little matters. ‘Then you must bring him some evening which is not a Parent Society night, or a Branch night, or a Ramification night. You must accommodate the visit to the demands upon my time. My dear Miss Summerson, it was very kind of you to come here to help out this silly chit. Good-bye! When I tell you that I have fifty-eight new letters from manufacturing families anxious to understand the details of the Native and Coffee Cultivation question, this morning, I need not apologize for having very little leisure.’
I was not surprised by Caddy’s being in low spirits, when we went downstairs; or by her sobbing afresh on my neck, or by her saying she would far rather have been scolded than treated with such indifference, or by her confiding to me that she was so poor in clothes, that how she was ever to be married creditably