CHAPTER 12 Paul's Education After the lapse of some minutes, which appeared an immense time to little Paul Donby on the table, Dr. Blimber came back. The doctors' walk was stately and calculated to impress the juvenile mind with solemn feelings. It was a sort of march, but when the doctor put out his right foot, he gravely turned upon his axis, with a semicircular sweep towards the left, and when he put out his left foot, he turned in the same manner towards the right, so that he seemed at every stride he took to look about him as though he were saying, Can anybody have the goodness to indicate any subject in any direction on which I am uninformed? I rather think not. Mrs. Blimber and Miss Blimber came back in the doctor's company, and the doctor lifting his new pupil off the table delivered him over to Miss Blimber. Cornelia, said the doctor, Donby will be your charge at first. Bring him on, Cornelia, bring him on. Miss Blimber received her young ward from the doctor's hands, and Paul, feeling that the spectacles were surveying him, cast down his eyes. How old are you, Donby? said Miss Blimber. Six. Answered Paul, wondering as he stole a glance at the young lady why her hair didn't grow long like Florence's, and why she was like a boy. How much do you know of your Latin grammar, Donby? said Miss Blimber. None of it. Answered Paul, feeling that the answer was a shock to Miss Blimber's sensibility, he looked up at the three phases that were looking down at him and said, I haven't been well. I've been a weak child. I couldn't learn a Latin grammar when I was out every day with old Glob. I wish you tell old Glob to come and see me, if you please. What a dreadfully low name, said Miss Blimber. Unclassical to a degree. Who is the monster, child? What monster? Enquired Paul. Glob, said Miss Blimber, with a great disrallish. He is no more a monster than you are. Returned Paul. What? Cried the doctor in a terrible voice. Ay, ay, ay! Ah-ha! What's that? Paul was dreadfully frightened, but still he made a stand for the absent Glob, though he did it trembling. He's a very nice old man, Mum, he said. He used to draw my couch. He knows all about the deep sea and the fish that are in it and the great monsters that come and lie on rocks in the sun and dive into the water again when they startled, blowing and splashing so that they can be heard for miles. There are some creatures, said Paul, warming with his subject. I don't know how many yards long and I forget their names, but Florence knows that pretend to be in distress. And when a man goes near them out of compassion, they open their great jaws and attack him. But all he has got to do, said Paul, boldly tendering this information to the very doctor himself, is to keep on turning as he runs away and then as they turn slowly because they're so long and can't bend, he's sure to beat them. And though old Club don't know why the sea should make me think of my mama that's dead or what it is that it is always saying, always saying, he knows a great deal about it and I wish. The child concluded with a sudden falling of his countenance and failing in his animation as he looked like one forlorn upon the three strange faces. That you'd let old Club come here to see me, for I know him very well and he knows me. Ha! said the doctor, shaking his head. This is bad, but study will do much. Mrs. Blimberow pined with something like a shiver that he was an unaccountable child and allowing for the difference of visage looked at him pretty much as Mrs. Pipchin had been used to do. Take him round the house Cornelia, said the doctor, and familiarise him with his new sphere. Go with that young lady, Dombie. Dombie obeyed, giving his hand to the abstruse Cornelia and looking at her sideways with timid curiosity as they went away together. For her spectacles, by reason of the glistening of the glasses, made her so mysterious that he didn't know where she was looking and was not indeed quite sure that she had any eyes at all behind them. Cornelia took him first to the school room, which was situated at the back of the hall and was approached through two bays doors which deadened and muffled the young gentleman's voices. Here there were eight young gentlemen in various stages of mental prostration, all very hard at work, and very grave indeed. Toots, as an old hand, had a desk to himself in one corner and a magnificent man of immense age he looked in Paul's young eyes behind it. Mr. Feder B. A., who sat at another little desk, had his Virgil stop on and was slowly grinding that tune to four young gentlemen. Of the remaining four, two who grasped their foreheads convulsively, were engaged in solving mathematical problems. One with his face like a dirty window from much crying was endeavouring to flounder through a hopeless number of lines before dinner, and one sat looking at his task in stony stupefaction and despair, which it seemed had been his condition ever since breakfast time. The appearance of a new boy did not create the sensation that might have been expected. Mr. Feder B. A., who was in the habit of shaving his head for coolness and had nothing but little bristles on it, gave him a bony hand and told him he was glad to see him, which Paul would have been very glad to have told him if he could have done so with the least sincerity. Then Paul, instructed by Cornelia, shook hands with the four young gentlemen at Mr. Feder's desk, then with the two young gentlemen at work on the problems who were very feverish, then with the young gentlemen at work against time who was very inky, and lastly with the young gentlemen in a state of stupefaction who was flabby and quite cold. Paul, having been already introduced to Toots, that pupil merely chuckled and breathed hard as his custom was, and pursued the occupation in which he was engaged. It was not a severe one, for on account of his having gone through so much, in more senses than one, and also of his having, as before hinted, left off blowing in his prime, Toots now had license to pursue his own course of study, which was chiefly to write long letters to himself from persons of distinction, ads P. Toots' Esquire Brighton Sussex, and to preserve them in his desk with great care. These ceremonies passed, Cornelia led Paul upstairs to the top of the house, which was rather a slow journey on account of Paul being obliged to land both feet on every stair before he mounted another. But they reached their journey's end at last, and there, in a front room, looking over the wild sea, Cornelia showed him a nice little bed with white hangings close to the window, on which there was already beautifully written on a card in round text, downstrokes very thick and upstrokes very fine, domby, while two other little bedsteads in the same room were announced through like-means as respectively appertaining unto Briggs and Tozer. Just as they got downstairs again into the hall, Paul saw the weak-eyed young man who had given that mortal offence to Mrs. Pippen, suddenly sees a very large drumstick and flyered a gong that was hanging up as if he had gone mad or wanted vengeance. Instead of receiving warning, however, or being instantly taken into custody, the young man left off unchecked after having made a dreadful noise. Then Cornelia Blimber said to Domby that dinner would be ready in a quarter of an hour, and perhaps he had better go into the schoolroom among his friends. So Domby, deferentially passing the great clock, which was still as anxious as ever to know how he found himself, opened the schoolroom door a very little way and strayed in like a lost boy, shutting it after him with some difficulty. His friends were all dispersed about the room, except the stony friend, who remained immovable. Mr. Feder was stretching himself in his gray gown as if, regardless of expense, he were resolved to pull the sleeves off. Hey-ho-hum! cried Mr. Feder, shaking himself like a cart horse. Oh, dear me, dear me! Paul was quite alarmed by Mr. Feder's yawning. It was done on such a great scale, and he was so terribly in earnest. All the boys, too, Toots accepted, seemed knocked up and were getting ready for dinner. Some newly tying their neck-cloths, which were very stiff indeed, and others washing their hands or brushing their hair in an adjoining anti-chamber as if they didn't think they should enjoy it at all. Young Toots, who was ready beforehand and had therefore nothing to do and had leisure to bestow upon Paul, said, with heavy good nature, Sit down, Doppie. Thank you, sir, said Paul. His endeavouring to hoist himself onto a very high window-seat and his slipping down again appeared to prepare Toots's mind for the reception of a discovery.  Yes, sir, I'm small, returned Paul. Thank you, sir. But Toots had lifted him into the seat and done it kindly, too. Who's your tailor? inquired Toots after looking at him for some moments. It's a woman that has made my clothes as yet, said Paul. My sister's dressmaker. My tailor's burgess and cow, said Toots, fashionable, but very dear. Paul had wit enough to shake his head as if you would have said it was easy to see that and indeed he thought so. Your father's regularly rich, ain't he? inquired Mr. Toots. Yes, sir, said Paul. He's Domby and son. And which? demanded Toots. And son, sir, replied Paul. Mr. Toots made one or two attempts in a low voice to fix the firm in his mind, but not quite succeeding said he would get Paul to mention the name again tomorrow morning as it was rather important. And indeed he purposed nothing less than writing himself a private and confidential letter from Domby and son immediately. By this time the other pupils, always accepting the stony boy, gathered round. They were polite, but pale, and spoke low. And they were so depressed in their spirits that in comparison with the general tone of that company, Master Bitherstone was a perfect miller or complete jest-book. And yet he had a sense of injury upon him, too, had Bitherstone. You sleep in my room, don't you? Asked a solemn young gentleman whose shirt-collar curled up the lobes of his ears. Master Briggs, inquired Paul. Tozer, said the young gentleman. Paul answered yes, and Tozer pointing out the stony pupil said that was Briggs. Paul had already felt certain that it must be either Briggs or Tozer, though he didn't know why. Is yours a strong constitution? inquired Tozer. Paul said he thought not. Tozer replied that he thought not also, judging from Paul's looks, and that it was a pity for it need be. He then asked Paul if he were going to begin with Cornelia. And on Paul saying yes, all young gentlemen, Briggs accepted, gave a low groan. It was drowned in the tinton abulation of the gong, which sounding again with great fury, there was a general move towards the dining-room, still accepting Briggs, the stony boy, who remained where he was, and as he was, and on its way to whom Paul presently encountered a round of bread gentilly served on a plate and napkin, and with a silver fork lying crosswise on the top of it. Dr. Blimber was already in his place in the dining-room at the top of the table, with Miss Blimber and Mrs. Blimber on either side of him. Mr. Feder in a black coat was at the bottom. Paul's chair was next to Miss Blimber, but it being found when he sat in it, that his eyebrows were not much above the level of the tablecloth, some books were brought in from the doctor's study, on which he was elevated, and on which he always sat from that time, carrying them in and out himself on after occasions like a little elephant in castle. Grace having been said by the doctor, dinner began. There was some nice soup, also roast meat, boiled meat, vegetables, pie, and cheese. Every young gentleman had a massive silver fork and a napkin, and all the arrangements were stately and handsome. In particular, there was a butler in a blue coat and bright buttons, who gave quite a whiny flavour to the table-beer. He poured it out so superbly. Nobody spoke, unless spoken to, except Dr. Blimber, Mrs. Blimber, and Ms. Blimber, who conversed occasionally. Whenever a young gentleman was not actually engaged with his knife and fork or spoon, his eye, with an irresistible attraction, sought the eye of Dr. Blimber, Mrs. Blimber, or Ms. Blimber, and modestly rested there. Toots appeared to be the only exception to this rule. He sat next Mr. Feder on Paul's side of the table, and frequently looked behind, and before, the intervening boys to catch a glimpse of Paul. Only once during dinner was there any conversation that included the young gentleman. It happened at the epoch of the cheese, when the doctor, having taken a glass of port wine and hemmed twice or thrice, said, It is remarkable, Mr. Feder, that the Romans, at the mention of this terrible people, their implacable enemies, every young gentleman fastened his gaze upon the doctor with an assumption of the deepest interest. One of the number who happened to be drinking, and who caught the doctor's eye glaring at him through the side of his tumbler, left off so hastily that he was convulsed for some moments, and in the sequel ruined Dr. Blimber's point. It is remarkable, Mr. Feder, said the doctor, beginning again, slowly, that the Romans, in those gorgeous and profuse entertainments of which we read in the days of the emperors, when luxury had attained a height unknown before or since, and when whole provinces were ravaged to supply the splendid means of one imperial banquet. Here the offender, who had been swelling and straining and waiting in vain for a full stop, broke out violently. Johnson, said Mr. Feder, in a low reproachful voice, take some water. The doctor, looking very stern, made a pause until the water was brought, and then resumed. And when, Mr. Feder? But Mr. Feder, who saw that Johnson must break out again, and who knew that the doctor would never come to a period before the young gentleman, until he had finished all he meant to say, couldn't keep his eye off Johnson, and thus was caught in the fact of not looking at the doctor, who consequently stopped. I beg your pardon, sir, said Mr. Feder, reddening. I beg your pardon, Dr. Blimber. And when, said the doctor, raising his voice, when, sir, as we read and have no reason to doubt, incredible as it may appear to the vulgar of our time, the brother of Ithelius prepared for him a feast, in which were served of fish two thousand dishes. Take some water, Johnson. Dishes, sir? said Mr. Feder. Of various sorts of foul five thousand dishes. Or dry a crust of bread, said Mr. Feder. And one dish, pursued Dr. Blimber, raising his voice still higher as he looked all round the table, called from its enormous dimensions the shield of the nether, and made among other costly ingredients of the brains of pheasants. From Johnson, wood cocks, the sounds of the fish called scary, you burst some vessel in your head, said Mr. Feder. You had better let it come. And the spawn of the lamprey, brought from the Carpathian sea, pursued the doctor in his severest voice. When we read of costly entertainment such as these, and still remember that we have a Titus. What would be your mother's feelings if you died of apopexy? said Mr. Feder. A dormition.  A Nero, a Tiberius, a Caligula, a Heliogabalus, and many more. Pursued the doctor. It is, Mr. Feder, if you are doing me the honor to attend. Remarkable. Very remarkable, sir. But Johnson, unable to suppress it any longer, burst at that moment into such an overwhelming fit of coughing, that although both his immediate neighbors thumped him on the back, and Mr. Feder himself held a glass of water to his lips, and the butler walked him up and down several times between his own chair and the sideboard, like a sentry, it was a full five minutes before he was moderately composed, and there was a profound silence. Jantleman, said Dr. Glimba, rise for grace. Cornelia lifted Donby down. Nothing of whom but his scalp was accordingly seen above the tablecloth. Johnson will repeat to me tomorrow morning before breakfast, without book, and from the Greek Testament, the first chapter of the Epistle of St. Paul to the Ephesians. We will resume our studies, Mr. Feder, in half an hour. The young gentleman bowed and withdrew. Mr. Feder did likewise. During the half hour, the young gentleman, broken into pairs, loitered arm in arm, up and down a small piece of ground behind the house, or endeavored to kindle a spark of animation in the breast of Briggs. But nothing happened so vulgar as play. Punctually at the appointed time, the gong was sounded, and the studies, under the joint auspices of Dr. Glimba and Mr. Feder, were resumed. As the Olympic game of lounging up and down had been cut shorter than usual that day, on Johnson's account, they all went out for a walk before tea. Even Briggs, though he hadn't begun yet, partook of this dissipation. In the enjoyment of which he looked over the cliff two or three times, darkly. Dr. Glimba accompanied them, and Paul had the honour of being taken in tow by the doctor himself. A distinguished state of things, in which he looked very little and feeble. Tea was served in a style no less polite than the dinner. And after tea, the young gentleman rising and bowing as before withdrew to fetch up the unfinished tasks of that day, or to get up the already looming tasks of tomorrow. In the meantime, Mr. Feder withdrew to his own room, and Paul sat in a corner wondering whether Florence was thinking of him, and what they were all about at Mrs. Pipchins. Mr. Toots, who had been detained by an important letter from the Duke of Wellington, found Paul out after a time, and having looked at him for a long while as before, inquired if he was fond of waistcoats. Paul said, Yes, sir. So am I, said Toots. No word more spoke Toots that night, but he stood looking at Paul as if he liked him, and as there was company in that, and Paul was not inclined to talk, it answered his purpose better than conversation. At eight o'clock or so the gong sounded again for prayers in the dining room, where the butler afterwards presided over a side table, on which bread and cheese and beer were spread for such young gentlemen as desired to partake of those refreshments. The ceremonies concluded by the doctor saying, Gentlemen, we will resume our studies at seven tomorrow. And then for the first time Paul saw Cornelia Blimber's eye, and saw that it was upon him. When the doctor had said these words, Gentlemen, we will resume our studies at seven tomorrow. The pupils bowed again and went to bed. In the confidence of their own room upstairs, Briggs set his head ached, ready to split, and that he should wish himself dead if it wasn't for his mother and a blackbird he had at home. Tozer didn't say much, but he sighed a good deal, and told Paul to look out, for his turn would come tomorrow. After uttering those prophetic words, he undressed himself moodily and got into bed. Briggs was in his bed too, and Paul in his bed too, before the weak-eyed young man appeared to take away the candle, when he wished them good night and pleasant dreams. But his benevolent wishes were in vain, as far as Briggs and Tozer were concerned. For Paul, who lay awake for a long while, and often woke afterwards, found that Briggs was ridden by his lesson as a nightmare, and that Tozer, whose mind was affected in his sleep by similar causes, in a minor degree talked unknown tongues or scraps of Greek and Latin. It was all one to Paul, which, in the silence of night, had an inexpressibly wicked and guilty effect. Paul had sunk into a sweet sleep, and dreamed that he was walking hand in hand with Florence through beautiful gardens, when they came to a large sunflower, which suddenly expanded itself into a gong, and began to sound. Opening his eyes, he found that it was a dark, windy morning, with a drizzling rain, and that the real gong was giving dreadful note of preparation down in the hall. So he got up directly, and found Briggs with hardly any eyes, for nightmare and grief had made his face puffy, putting his boots on, while Tozer stood shivering and rubbing his shoulders in a very bad humour. Poor Paul couldn't dress himself easily, not being used to it, and asked them if they would have the goodness to tie some strings for him. But as Briggs merely said, bother, and Tozer, oh yes, he went down when he was otherwise ready to the next story, where he saw a pretty young woman in leather gloves cleaning a stove. The young woman seemed surprised at his appearance, and asked him where his mother was. When Paul told her she was dead, she took her gloves off, and did what he wanted, and furthermore rubbed his hands to warm them, and gave him a kiss, and told him whenever he wanted anything of that sort, meaning in the dressing way, to ask for meelia, which Paul, thanking her very much, said he certainly would. He then proceeded softly on his journey downstairs, towards the room in which the young gentleman resumed their studies, when, passing by a door that stood ajar, a voice from within cried, Is that Domby? On Paul replying, Yes, Mam, for he knew the voice to me, Miss Blimber's, Miss Blimber said, Come in, Domby! And in he went. Miss Blimber presented exactly the appearance she had presented yesterday, except that she wore a shawl. Her little light curls were as crisp as ever, and she had already her spectacles on, which made Paul wonder whether she went to bed in them. She had a cool little sitting-room of her own, up there, with some books in it, and no fire, but Miss Blimber was never cold, and never sleepy. Now, Domby! said Miss Blimber, I am going out for a constitutional. Paul wondered what that was, and why she didn't send the footman out to get it in such unfavorable weather. But he made no observation on the subject, his attention being devoted to a little pile of new books, on which Miss Blimber appeared to have been recently engaged. These are yours, Domby, said Miss Blimber. All of them, Mam, said Paul. Yes, returned Miss Blimber, and Mr. Feder will look out some more very soon, if you are as studious as I expect you will be, Domby. Thank you, Mam, said Paul. I am going out for a constitutional, presumed Miss Blimber, and while I am gone, at as to say, in the interval between this and breakfast, Domby, I wish you to read over what I have marked in these books, and to tell me if you quite understand what you have got to learn. Don't lose time, Domby, for you have none to spare, but take them downstairs and begin directly. Yes, Mam, answered Paul. There were so many of them, that although Paul put one hand under the bottom book, and his other hand, and his chin on the top book, and hugged them all closely, the middle book slipped out before he reached the door, and then they all tumbled down on the floor. Miss Blimber said, Oh, Domby, Domby, this is really very careless, and piled him up afresh for him, and this time by dint of balancing them with great nicety, Paul got out of the room, and down a few stairs before two of them escaped again. But he held the rest so tight that he only left one more on the first floor, and one in the passage, and when he had got the main body down into the school room, he set off upstairs again to collect the stragglers. Having it last amassed the whole library, and climbed into his place, he fell to work, encouraged by a remark from Tozer to the effect that he was in for it now, which was the only interruption he received till breakfast time. At that meal for which he had no appetite, everything was quite as solemn and genteel as at the others, and when it was finished, he followed Miss Blimber upstairs. Now, Domby, said Miss Blimber, how have you got on with those books? They comprised a little English and a deal of Latin, names of things, declensions of articles and substantives, exercises thereon, and preliminary rules, a trifle of orthography, a glance at ancient history, a wink or two at modern detail, a few tables, two or three weights and measures, and a little general information. When poor Paul had spelled out number two, he found he had no idea of number one. Fragments were of, afterwards, obtuded themselves into number three, which slidered into number four, which grafted itself onto number two, so that whether twenty Romuluses made a Remus, or Hick-Hack-Hock was Troy-weight, or a verb always agreed with an ancient Britain, or three times four was Taurus Abul, were open questions with him. Oh, Domby, Domby, said Miss Blimber, this is very shocking. If you please, said Paul, I think if I might sometimes talk a little to old Glob, I should be able to do better. Nonsense, Domby! said Miss Blimber, I couldn't hear of it. This is not the place for globs of any kind. You must take the books down, I suppose, Domby, one by one, and perfect yourself in the days and storm of a subject A, before you turn at all to subject B. I'm sorry to say, Domby, that your education appears to have been very much neglected. So Papa says, returned Paul, but I told you I have been weak child. France knows I have, so does Wickham. Who is Wickham? asked Miss Blimber. She has been my nurse, Paul answered. I must beg you not to mention Wickham to me, then, said Miss Blimber. I couldn't allow it. You asked me who she was, said Paul. Very well, returned Miss Blimber, but this is all very different indeed from anything of that sort, Domby, and I couldn't think of omitting it. As to having been weak, you must begin to be strong, and now take away the top book, if you please, Domby, and return when you are the master of the theme. Miss Blimber expressed her opinions on the subject of Paul's uninstructed state with a gloomy delight, as if she had expected this result, and were glad to find that they must be in constant communication. Paul withdrew with the top task, as he was told, and laboured away at it down below, sometimes remembering every word of it, and sometimes forgetting it all, and everything else besides, and at last he ventured upstairs again to repeat the lesson, when it was nearly all driven out of his head, before he began, by Miss Blimber's shutting up the book, and saying, Good Domby! a proceeding so suggestive of the knowledge inside of her, that Paul looked upon the young lady with consternation, as a kind of learned guy for, or artificial bowl, stuffed full of scholastic straw. He acquitted himself very well, nevertheless, and Miss Blimber, commending him, as giving promise of getting on fast, immediately provided him with subject B, from which he passed to C, and even D, before dinner. It was hard work, resuming his studies, soon after dinner, and he felt giddy, and confused, and drowsy, and dull. But all the other young gentlemen had similar sensations, and were obliged to resume their studies, too, if there were any comfort in that. It was a wonder that the great clock in the hall, instead of being constant to its first inquiry, never said, Gentlemen, we will now resume our studies, for that phrase was often enough repeated in its neighbourhood. The studies went round like a mighty wheel, and the young gentlemen were always stretched upon it. After tea there were exercises again, and preparations for next day by candle-night, and in due course there was bed, where, but for that resumption of the studies which took place in dreams, were rest and sweet forgetfulness. Oh, Saturdays! Oh, happy Saturdays, when Florence always came at noon, and never would, in any weather, stay away, though Mrs. Pipchin snarled and growled, and worried her bitterly. Those Saturdays were Sabbaths for at least two little Christians among all the Jews, and did the holy Sabbath work of strengthening and knitting up a brother's and a sister's love. Not even Sunday nights, the heavy Sunday nights, whose shadow darkened the first waking burst of light on Sunday mornings, could mar those precious Saturdays. Whether it was the great seashore where they sat, and strolled together, or whether it was only Mrs. Pipchin's dull back room, in which she sang to him so softly, with his drowsy head upon her arm, Paul never cared. It was Florence. That was all he thought of. So, on Sunday nights, when the doctor's dark door stood agape to swallow him up for another week, the time was come for taking leave of Florence. No one else. Mrs. Wickham had been drafted home to the house in town, and Miss Nipper, now a smart young woman, had come down. To many a single combat with Mrs. Pipchin did Miss Nipper gallantly devote herself, and if ever Mrs. Pipchin in all her life had found her match, she had found it now. Miss Nipper threw away the scabbard the first morning she arose in Mrs. Pipchin's house. She asked, and gave no quarter. She said it must be war, and war it was, and Mrs. Pipchin lived from that time in the midst of surprises, harassings, and defiances, and skirmishing attacks that came bouncing in upon her from the passage, even in unguarded moments of chops, and carried desolation to her very toast. Miss Nipper had returned one Sunday night with Florence, from walking back with Paul to the doctor's, when Florence took from her bosom a little piece of paper on which she had penciled down some words. See here, Susan, she said, these are the names of the little books that Paul brings home to do those long exercises with, when he is so tired. I copied them last night while he was writing. Don't you show him to me, Miss Foy, if you please? returned Nipper. I'd assume, see Mrs. Pipchin. I want you to buy them for me, Susan, if you will, tomorrow morning. I have money enough, said Florence. Why, goodness gracious me, Miss Foy, return, Miss Nipper, how can you talk like that? When you have books upon books already, and masters is, and misses is, a teaching of you everything continual, though my belief is that your palm, Miss Domby, never would have learnt you nothing, never would have thought of it unless you'd asked him, when he couldn't well refuse, but giving consent when asked and offering when unasked, Miss is quite two things. I might not have my objections to a young man's kicking company with me, and when he puts the question may say yes, but that's not saying would you be so kind as like me. But you can buy me the books, Susan, and you will, when you know why I want them. Well, Miss, and why do you want them? replied Nipper, adding in a lower voice. If it was to fling it, Mrs. Pipchin's head, I'd buy a cartload. Paul has a great deal too much to do, Susan, said Florence. I am sure of it. And well you might be, Miss, turned her maid, and make your mind quite easy that the willing dear is worked and worked away. If those is Latin legs, exclaimed Miss Nipper with strong feeling and illusion to Paul's, give me the English ones. I am afraid he feels lonely and lost, a Dr. Blimbers, Susan, pursued Florence, turning away her face. Ah, said Miss Nipper, with great sharpness. Oh, them blimbers! Don't blame any one, said Florence. It's a mistake. I said nothing about blame, Miss, cried Miss Nipper, for I know that you object, but I may wish Miss that the family were set to work to make new roads, and that Miss Blimber went in front and had the pickaxe.  I think I could perhaps give Paul some help, Susan, if I had these books, said Florence, and make the coming week a little easier to him. At least I want to try, so buy them for me, dear, and I will never forget how kind it was of you to do it. It must have been a harder heart than Susan Nippers, that could have ejected the little purse Florence held out with these words, or the gentle look of entreaty with which she seconded her petition. Susan put the purse in her pocket without reply, and trotted out at once upon her errand. The books were not easy to procure, and the answer at several shops was either that they were just out of them, or that they never kept them, or that they had had a great many last month, or that they expected a great many next week. But Susan was not easily baffled in such an enterprise, and having entrapped a white-haired youth in a black calico apron from a library where she was known, to accompany her in her quest, she led him such a life in going up and down that he exerted himself to the utmost if it were only to get rid of her, and finally enabled her to return home in triumph. With these treasures, then, after her own daily lessons were over, Florence sat down at night to track Paul's footsteps through the thorny ways of learning, and being possessed of a naturally quick and sound capacity, and taught by that most wonderful of master's love, it was not long before she gained upon Paul's heels, and caught and passed him. Not a word of this was breathed to Mrs. Pipchin, but many a night when they were all in bed, and when Miss Nipper, with her hair and papers and herself asleep in some uncomfortable attitude, reposed unconscious by her side, and when the chinking ashes in the grate were cold and gray, and when the candles were burnt down and guttering out, Florence tried so hard to be a substitute for one small donby that her fortitude and perseverance might have almost won her a free right to bear the name herself. And high was her reward, when one Saturday evening, as little Paul was sitting down as usual to resume his studies, she sat down by his side, and showed him all that was so rough, made smooth, and all that was so dark, made clear and plain before him.  But God knows how her heart leapt up at this rich payment for her trouble. Cried her brother, How I love you, how I love you, Floy. And I, you dear, I am sure of that, Floy. He said no more about it, but all that evening sat close by her, very quiet, and in the night he called out from his little room within hers, three or four times, that he loved her. Regularly after that Florence was prepared to sit down with Paul on Saturday night, and patiently assist him through so much as they could anticipate together of his next week's work. The cheering thought that he was laboring on where Florence had just toiled before him would of itself have been a stimulant to Paul in the perpetual resumption of his studies. But coupled with the actual lightning of his load, consequent on this assistance, it saved him possibly from sinking underneath the burden which the fair Cornelia Blimba piled upon his back. It was not that Miss Blimba meant to be too hard upon him, or that Dr. Blimba meant to bear too heavily on the young gentleman in general. Cornelia merely held the faith in which he had been bred, and the doctor, in some partial confusion of his ideas, regarded the young gentleman as if they were all doctors, and were born grown up. Comforted by the applause of the young gentleman's nearest relations, and urged on by their blind vanity and ill-considered haste, it would have been strange if Dr. Blimba had discovered his mistake, or trimmed his swelling sails to any other tech. Thus in the case of Paul, when Dr. Blimba said he made great progress, and was naturally clever, Mr. Dombie was more bent than ever on his being forced and crammed. In the case of Briggs, when Dr. Blimba reported that he did not make great progress yet, and was not naturally clever, Briggs Sr. was inexorable in the same purpose. In short, however high and false the temperature at which the doctor kept his hot-house, the owners of the plants were always ready to lend a helping hand at the bellows and to stir the fire. Such spirits as he had in the outset Paul soon lost, of course, but he retained all that was strange and old and thoughtful in his character, and under circumstances so favorable to the development of those tendencies became even more strange and old and thoughtful than before. The only difference was that he kept his character to himself. He grew more thoughtful and reserved every day, and had no such curiosity in any living member of the doctor's household as he had had in Mrs. Pipchen. He loved to be alone, and in those short intervals when he was not occupied with his books, like nothing so well as wandering about the house by himself, or sitting on the stairs, listening to the great clock in the hall. He was intimate with all the paper hanging in the house, saw things that no one else saw in the patterns, found out miniature tigers and lions running up the bedroom walls, and squinting faces leering in the squares and diamonds of the floorcloth. The solitary child lived on, surrounded by this arabesque work of his musing fency, and no one understood him. Mrs. Blimber thought him odd, and sometimes the servants said among themselves that little Dombie moped, but that was all. Unless young Toots had some idea on the subject, to the expression of which he was wholly unequal, ideas like ghosts, according to the common notion of ghosts, must be spoken to a little before they will explain themselves, and Toots had long left off asking any questions of his own mind. Some mist there may have been issuing from that leaden casket his cranium, which, if it could have taken shape and form, would have become a genie, but it could not, and it only so far followed the example of the smoke and the Arabian story, as to roll out in a thick cloud, and there hang and hover. But it left a little figure visible upon a lonely shore, and Toots was always staring at it. How are you? he would say to Paul, fifty times a day. Quite well, sir, thank you. Paul would answer. Shake hands would be Toots's next advance, which Paul, of course, would immediately do. Mr. Toots generally said again, after a long entail of staring and hard breathing, How are you? to which Paul again replied, Quite well, sir, thank you. One evening Mr. Toots was sitting at his desk, oppressed by correspondence, when a great purpose seemed to flash upon him. He laid down his pen, and went off to seek Paul, whom he found at last after a long search, looking through the window of his little bedroom. I say, cried Toots, speaking the moment he entered the room, as he should forget it. What do you think about? Oh, I think about a great many things, replied Paul. Do you, though? said Toots, appearing to consider that fact in itself surprising. If you had to die, said Paul, looking up into his face, Mr. Toots started, and seemed much disturbed.  Mr. Toots said, looking doubtfully at Paul and shaking his head, that he didn't know about that. Not blowing, at least, said Paul, but sounding in the air like the sea sounds in the shells. It was a beautiful night. When I listened to the water for a long time, I got up and looked out. There was a boat over there, in the full light of the moon, a boat with a sail. The child looked at him so steadfastly, and spoke so earnestly, that Mr. Toots, feeling himself called upon to say something about this boat, said, smugglers. But with an impartial remembrance of there being two sides to every question, he added, or preventive. A boat with a sail, repeated Paul, in the full light of the moon, the sail like an arm or silver. It went away into the distance. And what do you think it seemed to do as it moved with the waves? Pitch, said Mr. Toots. It seemed to beckon, said the child, to beckon me to come. Oh, there she is, there she is. Toots was almost beside himself with dismay at this sudden exclamation, after what had gone before, and cried, Who? My sister Florence, cried Paul, looking up here and waving her hand. She sees me, she sees me. Good night, dear, good night, good night. His quick transition to a state of unbounded pleasure, as he stood at his window, kissing and clapping his hands, and the way in which the light retreated from his features as she passed out of his view, and left a patient, Melancholy, on the little face, were too remarkable wholly to escape even Toots's notice. Their interview, being interrupted at this moment by a visit from Mrs. Pitchin, who usually brought her black skirts to bear upon Paul, just before dusk, once or twice a week, Toots had no opportunity of improving the occasion, but it left so marked an impression on his mind, that he twice returned, after having exchanged the usual salutations, to ask Mrs. Pitchin how she did. This, the irascible old lady, conceived to be a deeply devised and long meditated insult, originating in the diabolical invention of the weak-eyed young man downstairs, against whom she accordingly lodged a formal complaint with Dr. Blimber that very night, who mentioned to the young man that if he ever did it again, he should be obliged to part with him. The evenings being longer now, Paul stole up to his window every evening to look out for Florence. She always passed and repast at a certain time, until she saw him, and their mutual recognition was a gleam of sunshine in Paul's daily life. Often after dark, one other figure walked alone before the doctor's house. He rarely joined them on the Saturdays now. He could not bear it. He would rather come unrecognised, and look up at the windows where his son was qualifying for a man, and wait, and watch, and plan, and hope. Oh, could he but have seen, or seen as others did, the slight spare boy above, watching the waves and clouds at twilight, with his earnest eyes, and breasting the window of his solitary cage when birds flew by, as if he would have emulated them, and soared away. Shipping Intelligence and Office Business Mr. Dombie's offices were in a court, where there was an old established stall of choice fruit at the corner, where perambulating merchants of both sexes offered for sale at any time between the hours of ten and five, slippers, pocketbooks, sponges, dog's collars, and Windsor soap, and sometimes a pointer or an oil painting. The pointer always came that way with a view to the stock exchange, where a sporting taste originating generally in bets of new hats is much in vogue. The other commodities were addressed to the general public, but they were never offered by the vendors to Mr. Dombie. When he appeared, the dealers in those wares fell off respectfully. The principal slipper and dog's collar man, who considered himself a public character, and whose portrait was screwed onto an artist's door in cheapside, threw up his forefinger to the brim of his hat as Mr. Dombie went by. The ticket porter, if he were not absent on a job, always ran officiously before to open Mr. Dombie's office door as wide as possible, and hold it open with his hat off while he entered. The clerks within were not a wit behind hand in their demonstrations of respect. A solemn hush prevailed as Mr. Dombie passed through the outer office. The wit of the counting-house became in a moment as mute as the row of leaven fire-buckets hanging up behind him. Such vapid and flat daylight as filtered through the ground-glass windows and skylights, leaving a black sediment upon the panes, showed the books and papers, and the figures bending over them enveloped in a studious gloom, and as much abstracted in appearance from the world without, as if they were assembled at the bottom of the sea, while a mouldy little strong room in the obscure perspective, where a shaded lamp was always burning, might have represented the cavern of some ocean monster looking on with a red eye at these mysteries of the deep. When Perch, the messenger, whose place was on a little bracket, like a time-piece, saw Mr. Dombie come in, or rather when he felt that he was coming, for he had usually an instinctive sense of his approach. He hurried into Mr. Dombie's room, stirred the fire, carried fresh coals from the bowels of the coal-box, hung the newspaper to air upon the fender, put the chair ready and the screen in its place, and was round upon his heel on the instant of Mr. Dombie's entrance to take his great coat and hat and hang them up. Then Perch took the newspaper and gave it a turn or two in his hands before the fire, and laid it deferentially at Mr. Dombie's elbow. And so little objection had Perch to being deferential in the last degree, that if he might have laid himself at Mr. Dombie's feet, or might have called him by some such title as used to be bestowed upon the Caliph Haroun Arashid, he would have been all the better pleased. As this honour would have been an innovation and an experiment, Perch was feigned to contend himself by expressing as well as he could in his manner.  With this imperfect happiness to cheer him, he would shut the door softly, walk away on tiptoe, and leave his great chief to be stared at through a dome-shaped window in the leds by ugly chimney-pots and backs of houses, and especially by the bold window of a hair-cutting saloon on a first floor, where a waxen effigy, bald as a muscle man, in the morning, and covered after eleven o'clock in the day with luxuriant hair and whiskers in the latest Christian fashion, showed him the wrong side of its head forever. Between Mr. Dombie and the common world, as it was accessible through the medium of the outer office, to which Mr. Dombie's presence in his own room may be said to have struck like damp or cold air, there were two degrees of descent. Mr. Karker, in his own office, was the first step. Mr. Morphin, in his own office, was the second. Each of these gentlemen occupied a little chamber, like a bathroom, opening from the passage outside Mr. Dombie's door. Mr. Karker, as Grand Vizier, inhabited the room that was nearest to the Sultan. Mr. Morphin, as an officer of inferior state, inhabited the room that was nearest to the clerks. The gentleman last mentioned was a cheerful-looking, hazel-eyed, elderly bachelor, gravely attired, as to his upper man, in black, and as to his legs, in pepper and salt color. His dark hair was just touched here and there with specks of gray, as though the tread of time had splashed it, and his whiskers were already white. He had a mighty respect for Mr. Dombie, and rendered him due homage, but as he was of a genial temper himself, and never wholly at his ease in that stately presence, he was disquieted by no jealousy of the many conferences enjoyed by Mr. Karker, and felt a secret satisfaction in having duties to discharge which rarely exposed him to be singled out for such distinction. He was a great musical emitter in his way, after business, and had a paternal affection for his violin cello, which was once in every week transported from Islington, his place of abode, to a certain club-room hard by the bank, where quartets of the most tormenting and excruciating nature were executed every Wednesday evening by a private party. Mr. Karker was a gentleman thirty-eight or forty years old, of a florid complexion, and with two unbroken rows of glistening teeth, whose regularity and whiteness were quite distressing. It was impossible to escape the observation of them, for he showed them whenever he spoke, and bore so wide a smile upon his countenance, a smile however very rarely indeed extending beyond his mouth, that there was something in it like the snarl of a cat. He effected a stiff white cravert, after the example of his principal, and was always closely buttoned up and tightly dressed. His manner towards Mr. Dombey was deeply conceived and perfectly expressed. He was familiar with him, in the very extremity of his sense of the distance between them. Mr. Dombey, to a man in your position, from a man in mine, there is no show of subservience compatible with the transaction of business between us that I should think sufficient. I frankly tell you, sir, I give it up altogether. I feel that I could not satisfy my own mind, and heaven knows, Mr. Dombey, you can afford to dispense with the endeavour. If he had carried these words about with him printed on a placard, and had constantly offered it to Mr. Dombey's perusal on the breast of his coat, he could not have been more explicit than he was. This was Karka the manager. Mr. Karka, the junior, Walter's friend, was his brother, two or three years older than he, but widely removed in station. The younger brother's post was on the top of the official ladder, the elder brother's at the bottom. The elder brother never gained a stave, or raised his foot to mount one. Young men passed above his head, and rose and rose, but he was always at the bottom. He was quite resigned to occupy that low condition. Never complained of it, and certainly never hoped to escape from it. How do you do this morning? said Mr. Karka the manager, entering Mr. Dombey's room soon after his arrival one day, with a bundle of papers in his hand. How do you do, Karka? said Mr. Dombey. Cool-nish, observed Karka, stirring the fire. Rather, said Mr. Dombey. Any news of the young gentleman who is so important to us all? asked Karka, with his whole regiment of teeth on parade. Yes, not direct news. I hear he's very well, said Mr. Dombey, who had come from Brighton overnight, but no one knew it. Very well, and becoming a great scholar, no doubt, observed the manager. I hope so, returned Mr. Dombey. E'gad, said Mr. Karka, shaking his head, time flies. I think so sometimes, returned Mr. Dombey, glancing at his newspaper. No, you. You have no reason to think so, observed Karka. One who sits on such an elevation as yours, and can sit there unmoved in all seasons, hasn't much reason to know anything about the flight of time. It's men like myself, who are low down, and are not superior in circumstances, and who inherit new masters in the course of time, at have cause to look about us. I shall have a rising sun to worship soon. Time enough, time enough, Karka, said Mr. Dombey, rising from his chair, and standing with his back to the fire. Have you anything there for me? I don't know that I need trouble you, returned Karka, turning over the papers in his hand. You have a committee today at three, you know? And one at three three-quarters, added Mr. Dombey. Catch you forgetting anything, explained Karka, still turning over his papers. If Mr. Paul inherits your memory, he'll be a troublesome customer in the house. One of you is enough. You have an accurate memory of your own, said Mr. Dombey. Oh, I—returned the manager—it's the only capital of a man like me. Mr. Dombey did not look less pompous, or at all displeased, as he stood leaning against the chimney-piece, surveying his, of course unconscious, clerk, from head to foot. The stiffness and nicety of Mr. Karka's dress, and a certain arrogance of manner, either natural to him or imitated from a pattern not far off, gave great additional effect to his humility. He seemed a man who would contend against the power that vanquished him, if he could, but who was utterly borne down by the greatness and superiority of Mr. Dombey. Is Morphin here? asked Mr. Dombey after a short pause, during which Mr. Karka had been fluttering his papers and muttering little abstracts of their contents to himself. Morphin's here? he answered, looking up with his widest and almost sudden smile. Hamming musical recollections of his last night's quartet party, I suppose, through the walls between us, and driving me half mad, I wish he'd make a bonfire of his violin cello, and burn his music books in it. You respect nobody, Karka, I think, said Mr. Dombey. No, inquired Karka with another wide and most feline show of his teeth. Well, not many. People, I believe, I wouldn't answer, perhaps. He murmured as if he were only thinking it, for more than one. A dangerous quality, if real, and not a less dangerous one, if famed. But Mr. Dombey hardly seemed to think so, as he still stood with his back to the fire, drawn up to his full height, and looking at his head-clerk with a dignified composure, in which there seemed to lurk a stronger, latent sense of power than usual. Talking of Morphin, resumed Mr. Karka, taking out one paper from the rest, he reports a junior dead in the agency at Barbados, and reposes to reserve a passage in the sun and air. She'll sail in a month or so for the successor. You don't care who goes, I suppose. We have nobody of that sort here. Mr. Dombey shook his head with supreme indifference. It's no very precious appointment, observed Mr. Karka, taking up a pen, with which to endorse a memorandum on the back of the paper. I hope he may bestow it on some orphan nephew of a musical friend, and may perhaps stop his fiddle-playing if he has a gift that way. Who's that? Come in. I beg your pardon, Mr. Karka. I didn't know you were here, sir. Answered Walter, appearing with some letters in his hand, unopened, and newly arrived. Mr. Karka, the junior, sir, at the mention of this name, Mr. Karka the manager was, or affected to be, touched to the quick with shame and humiliation. He cast his eyes full on Mr. Dombey, with an altered and apologetic look, abased them on the ground, and remained for a moment without speaking. I thought, sir, he said suddenly and angrily turning on Walter, that you had been before requested not to drag Mr. Karka the junior into your conversation. I beg your pardon, turned Walter. I was only going to say that Mr. Karka the junior had told me he believed you were gone out, or I should not have knocked the door when you were engaged with Mr. Dombey. These are letters for Mr. Dombey, sir. Very well, sir! returned Mr. Karka the manager, plucking them sharply from his hand. Go about your business! But in taking them with so little ceremony, Mr. Karka dropped one on the floor, and did not see what he had done. Neither did Mr. Dombey observe the letter lying near his feet. Walter hesitated for a moment, thinking that one or other of them would notice it. But finding that neither did, he stout, came back, pipped it up, and laid it himself on Mr. Dombey's desk. The letters were post-letters, and it happened that the one in question was Mrs. Pipchin's regular report, directed as usual, for Mrs. Pipchin was but an indifferent penwoman, by Florence. Mr. Dombey, having his attention silently called to this letter by Walter, started, and looked fiercely at him, as if he believed that he had purposely selected it from all the rest. You can leave the room, sir," said Mr. Dombey, haughtily. He crushed the letter in his hand, and having watched Walter out of the door, put it in his pocket, without breaking the seal. These continual references to Mr. Karka the junior—Mr. Karka the manager began, as soon as they were alone—are to a man in my position, uttered before one in yours, so unspeakably distressing. Nonsense, Karka! Mr. Dombey interrupted.  I am sensitive, he returned. If one in your position could by any possibility imagine yourself in my place, which you cannot, you would be so too. As Mr. Dombey's thoughts were evidently pursuing some other subject, his discreet ally broke off here, and stood with his teeth, ready to present to him when he should look up. You want somebody to send to the West Indies, you were saying? Observed Mr. Dombey hurriedly. Yes, replied Karka.  Good! Very good indeed. Nothing easier, said Mr. Karka, without any show of surprise, and taking up the pen to re-endorse the letter as coolly as he had done before.  Call him back, said Mr. Dombey. Mr. Karka was quick to do so, and Walter was quick to return. Gay! said Mr. Dombey, turning a little to look at him over his shoulder. Here is an opening, said Mr. Karka, with his mouth stretched to the utmost. In the West Indies, at Barbados, I am going to send you, said Mr. Dombey, scawning to embellish the bare truth. To fill a junior situation in the counting-house at Barbados, let your uncle know from me that I have chosen you to go to the West Indies. Walter's breath was so completely taken away by his astonishment, that he could hardly find enough for the repetition of the words West Indies? Somebody must go, said Mr. Dombey. And you are young and healthy, and your uncle's circumstances are not good. Tell your uncle that you are appointed. You will not go yet. There will be an interval of a month or two, perhaps. Shall I remain there, sir? Enquired Walter. Will you remain there, sir? Repeated Mr. Dombey, turning a little more round towards him. What do you mean? What does he mean, Karka? Live there, sir. Altered Walter. Certainly. Returned Mr. Dombey. Walter bowed. That's all, said Mr. Dombey, resuming his letters. He will explain to him in good time about the usual outfit and so forth, Karka, of course. He needn't wait, Karka.  Unless, said Mr. Dombey, stopping in his reading without looking off the letter, and seeming to listen, unless he has anything to say. No, sir, returned Walter, agitated and confused, and almost stunned, as an infinite variety of pictures presented themself to his mind, among which Captain Cuttle, in his glazed hat, transfixed with astonishment at Mrs. McStingers, and his uncle bemoaning his loss in the Little Back Parlor, held prominent places. I hardly know. I am much obliged, sir. He needn't wait, Karka, said Mr. Dombey. And as Mr. Karka again echoed the words, and also collected his papers as if he were going away, too, Walter felt that his lingering any longer would be an unpardonable intrusion, especially as he had nothing to say, and therefore walked out quite confounded. Going along the passage, with the mingled consciousness and helplessness of a dream, he heard Mr. Dombey's door shut again, as Mr. Karka came out, and immediately afterwards that gentleman called to him. Bring your friend, Mr. Karka, the junior, to my room, sir, if you please. Walter went to the outer office, and apprised Mr. Karka, the junior, of his errand, who accordingly came out from behind a partition, where he sat alone in one corner, and returned with him to the room of Mr. Karka, the manager. That gentleman was standing with his back to the fire, at his hands under his coat tails, looking over his white cravat, as unpromisingly as Mr. Dombey himself could have looked. He received them without any change in his attitude, or softening of his harsh and black expression, merely signing to Walter to close the door. John Karka, said the manager, when this was done, turning suddenly upon his brother, with his two rows of teeth bristling as if he would have bitten him, what is the league between you and this young man, in virtue of which I am haunted and hunted by the mention of your name? Is it not enough for you, John Karka, that I am your near relation, and can't detach myself from that? Say, disgrace, James, interpose the other in a low voice, finding that he stammered for the word. You mean it, and have reason. Say, disgrace. From that disgrace, assented his brother, with keen emphasis, but is the fact to be blurted out untrumpeted, and proclaimed continually in the presence of the very house, in moments of confidence, too? May you think your name is calculated to harmonise in this place with trust and confidence, John Karka? No, returned the other. No, James. God knows I have no such thought. What is your thought, then? said his brother. And why do you thrust yourself in my way? Haven't you injured me enough already? I have never injured you, James, willfully. You are my brother, said the manager. That's injury enough. I wish I could undo it, James. I wish you could, and would. During this conversation, Walter had looked from one brother to the other with pain and amazement.  Though these were rendered very bitter by the tone and look with which they were accompanied, and by the presence of Walter whom they so much surprised and shocked, he entered no other protest against them, and by slightly raising his right hand in a deprecatory manner, as if he would have said, spare me. So had they been blows, and he, a brave man, under strong constraint, and weakened by bodily suffering, he might have stood before the executioner. Generous and quick in all his emotions, and regarding himself as the innocent occasion of these taunts, Walter now struck in, with all the earnestness he felt. Mr. Carca, he said, addressing himself to the manager, —indeed, indeed, this is my fault, solely in a kind of heedlessness for which I cannot blame myself enough, I have, I have no doubt, mentioned Mr. Carca, the junior, much oftener than was necessary, and have allowed his name sometimes to slip through my lips when it was against your expressed wish. But it has been my own mistake, sir. We have never exchanged one word upon the subject, very few, indeed, on any subject, and it has not been, added Walter, after a moment's pause, all heedlessness on my part, sir. For I have felt an interest in Mr. Carca ever since I have been here, and have hardly been able to help speaking of him sometimes when I have thought of him so much. Walter said this from his soul, and with the very breath of honour. For he looked upon the bowed head, and the downcast eyes, and upraised hand, and thought, I have felt it, and why should I not avow it in behalf of this unfriended, broken man? Mr. Carca, the manager, looked at him as he spoke, and when he had finished speaking, with a smile that seemed to divide his face into two parts. You are an excitable youth, gay, he said, and should endeavour to cool down a little now, for it would be unwise to encourage feverish predispositions. Be as cool as you can, gay, be as cool as you can. You might have asked Mr. John Carca himself, if you have not done so, whether he claims to be, or is, an object of such strong interest. James, do me justice, said his brother. I have claimed nothing, and I claim nothing. Believe me, on my honour, said his brother, with another smile, as he warmed himself before the fire. On my me, on my fallen life, returned the other, in the same low voice, but with a deeper stress on his words, than he had yet seemed capable of giving them. Believe me, I have held myself aloof, and kept alone. This has been unsought by me. I have avoided him, and everyone. Indeed, you have avoided me, Mr. Carca," said Walter, with the tears rising to his eyes, so true was his compassion. I knew it, to my disappointment and regret, when I first came here, and ever since, I am sure I have tried to be as much your friend, as one of my age could presume to be, but it has been of no use. And observe, said the manager, taking him up quickly. It will be of still less use, gay, if you persist in forcing Mr. John Carca's name on people's attention. That is not the way to befriend Mr. John Carca. Ask him, if he thinks it is. It is of no service to me, said the brother. It only leads to such a conversation as the present, which I need not say I could have well spared. No one can be a better friend to me. He spoke here very distinctly, as if he would impress it upon Walter, than in forgetting me, and leaving me to go my way, unquestioned and unnoticed. Your memory not being retentive gay of what you are told by others, said Mr. Carca the manager, warming himself with great and increased satisfaction. I thought it well that you should be told this from the best authority, nodding towards his brother. You are not likely to forget it now, I hope.  You can go. Walter passed out at the door, and was about to close it after him, when hearing the voices of the brothers again, and also the mention of his own name, he stood irresolutely with his hand upon the lock, and the door ajar, uncertain whether to return or go away. In this position he could not help overhearing what followed. Think of me more leniently, if you can, James, said John Carca. When I tell you I have had, how could I help having, with my history written here, striking himself upon the breast. My whole heart awakened by my observation of that boy, Walter Gay. I saw in him, when he first came here, almost my other self. Your other self, repeated the manager, disdainfully. Not as I am, but as I was when I first came here, too. A sanguine, giddy, youthful, inexperienced, flushed with the same restless and adventurous fancies, and full of the same qualities fraught with the same capacity of leading on to good or evil. I hope not, said his brother, with some hidden and sarcastic meaning in his tone.  I imagined all this when he was a boy. I believed it. It was a truth to me. I saw him lightly walking on the edge of an unseen gulf, where so many others walked with equal gaiety, and from which the old excuse, interrupted his brother as he stirred the fire. So many go on, say so many fall. From which one traveler fell, returned the other, who sat forward on his way, a boy like him, and missed his footing more and more, and slipped a little and a little lower, and went on stumbling still, until he fell headlong, and found himself below a shattered man. Think what I suffered when I watched that boy. You have only yourself to thank for it, returned the brother. Only myself, he assented with a sigh. I don't seek to divide the blame or shame. You have divided the shame, James Carkham muttered through his teeth, and through so many and such close teeth he could mutter well. Oh, James, returned his brother, speaking for the first time in an accent of reproach, and seeming by the sound of his voice to have covered his face with his hands. I have been, since then, a useful foil to you. You have trodden on me freely in your climbing up. Don't spurn me with your heel. A silence ensued. After a time, Mr. Carkham, the manager, was heard rustling him on his papers, as if he had resolved to bring the interview to a conclusion. At the same time, his brother withdrew nearer to the door. That's all, he said. I watched him with such trembling and such fear, as were some little punishment to me, until he passed the place where I first fell, and then, though I had been his father, I believe I never could have thanked God more devoutly. I didn't dare to warn him and advise him, but if I had seen direct cause, I would have shown him my example. I was afraid to be seen speaking with him, lest it should be thought I did him harm and tempted him to evil and corrupted him, or lest I really should. There may be such contagion in me. I don't know. Peace out my history in connection with young Walter Gay, and what he has made me feel, and think of me more leniently, James, if you can. With these words, he came out to where Walter was standing. He turned a little paler when he saw him there, and paler yet, when Walter caught him by the hand, and said in a whisper, Mr. Parker, pray let me thank you. Let me say how much I feel for you, how sorry I am to have been the unhappy cause of all this, how I almost looked upon you now as my protector and guardian, how very, very much I feel obliged to you and pity you, said Walter, squeezing both his hands and hardly knowing in his agitation what he did or said. Mr. Morphin's room, being close at hand and empty, and the door wide open, they moved thither by one accord, the passage being seldom free from someone passing to or fro. When they were there, and Walter saw in Mr. Parker's face some traces of the emotion within, he almost felt as if he had never seen the face before. It was so greatly changed. Walter, he said, laying his hand on his shoulder, I am far removed from you, and may I ever be? Do you know what I am? What you are? appeared to hang on Walter's lips as he regarded him attentively. It was begun, said Parker, before my twenty-first birthday, led up to long before, but not begun till near that time. I had robbed them when I came of age. I robbed them afterwards. Before my twenty-second birthday, it was all found out, and then Walter, from all men's society, I died. Again his last few words hung trembling upon Walter's lips, but he could neither utter them nor any of his own. The house was very good to me. May heaven reward the old man for his forbearance. This one, too, his son, who was then newly in the firm, where I had held a great trust. I was called into that room, which is now his. I have never entered it since, and came out what you know me. For many years I sat in my present seat alone as now, but then a known and recognized example to the rest. They were all merciful to me, and I lived. Time has altered that part of my poor expiation, and I think, except the three heads of the house, there is no one here who knows my story rightly. Before the little boy grows up, and has it told to him, my corner may be vacant. I would rather that it might be so. This is the only change to me since that day, when I left all youth, and hope, and good men's company behind me in that room.   Some recollection of his trembling from head to foot, as if with excessive cold, and of his bursting into tears, was all that Walter could add to this, when he tried to recall exactly what had passed between them. When Walter saw him next, he was bending over his desk in his old silent drooping, humbled way. Then, observing him at his work, and feeling how resolved he evidently was that no further intercourse should arise between them, and thinking again and again on all he had seen and heard that morning, in so short a time, in connection with the history of both the carcass, Walter could hardly believe that he was under orders for the West Indies, and would soon be lost to Uncle Sol, and Captain Cuttle, and to glimpses few and far between of Florence Dombie—no, he meant Paul—and to all he loved and liked, and looked for, in his daily life. But it was true, and the news had already penetrated to the outer office. For while he sat with a heavy heart, pondering on these things, and resting his head upon his arm, Perch the messenger, descending from his mahogany bracket, and jogging his elbow, begged his pardon, but wished to say in his ear, Did he think he could arrange to send home to England a jar of preserved ginger, cheap for Mrs. Perch's own eating in the course of her recovery from her next confinement?


Hello, welcome to the session on agile Scrum methodology in continuation with the previous video. Let us see the learning outcome. At the end of this session, students will be able to apply the Scrum methodology for software development, identify the difference between the water ball model and Scrum methodology. Now pause the video for a while and mention the different Scrum team in a Scrum methodology. In the Scrum framework, all the work delivered to the customer is done by a dedicated Scrum team. A Scrum team is a collection of individuals working together to deliver the requested and committed product increments. Product owner, development team, and Scrum master are the team members. The main source of information about the project is the project backlog, which defines the requirement the application meets in order to be successful. Requirements are expressed as user stories of the format. User stories or just stories are the short statements identifying the type of person. The functionality they need to perform in their own terms and the value they expect to achieve from it. Stories are intentionally expressed in very personal terms and are kept to what would fit on an index card. Keeping the story short is important because it ensures the requirements are fine grained. Next, we will see the requirements how they are collected in different forms. It is often helpful to categorize the stories as sagas, epics, and stories to reflect differences in their scope and lifespan. Sagas are big picture requirements that are extremely broad in their scope. An example of saga might be as a end user, I want to use an application that has exceptional performance and responds to my requests within a matter of seconds so I can quickly complete my work and stay focused on my immediate task. This type of requirement is very broad in its scope and sets an expectation for all functions in the application. The next type of story is an epic. Like a saga, epics have a lifespan of multiple sprints and cannot be considered complete until all stories based on them are also complete. However, epics have a narrower focus than a saga and although still a broad in nature. They can be completed within a few sprints. For example, as a content contributor, I want to categorize the content I create so I can ensure that readers can easily locate it. This type of requirement will result in multiple stories defining how content categorizes or defined and maintained. How they are associated with the content and how search functions utilize them. The user stories is a most granular description of the functionality. Stories describe the deliverables that can be completed in a single sprint. An example is as a experienced end user, I want to save my work using a command key sequence so I can quickly save my work without multiple clicks. It's important to note that there are many details the end user may not be aware of or even care about when it comes to specifying a requirement. It's up to the product owner and development team to refine the stories so they are actionable. In many cases, this means that the sagas, epics and stories provided by the customer must be decomposed into more discrete and therefore actionable units of work. Does the product meet the needs and expectation of the end user? The question is the ultimate major of success for any project. But metrics are also useful to the team in their progress and efficiency.  Both are based on the story points, which is a major of relative effort or difficulty required to complete a given story. We will see in detail about the burn down chart. This chart is used to provide a graphical view of the number of stories in the backlog that have been completed against the total number of remaining across the sprints. This burn down chart is used in the industry to track how much work is remaining for the project or how much task to be completed. The main processes contained in scrum are the sprint, sprint planning, the daily scrum meeting, the sprint review and the sprint retrospective. Sprints are the application development cycle lasting from 1 to 4 weeks. Sprint length is fixed across the life of the project and is chosen by the team. A fixed number of user stories are assigned to each sprint. This is not to say that stories cannot be added to the sprint, just that they cannot be added if doing so exceeds the capacity of the team to create, test and deploy a working application by the end of the sprint. It is quite often the case that teams under the estimate the number of stories that can be completed and have to be added stories to fill out the remainder of the sprint. At the start of each sprint, the product owner defines a goal for the sprint and identifies which stories need to be completed to achieve it. The development team selects stories from this pool, reviews them and commits as a team to their completion. This includes considering both the individual and collective complexity of each story using the story points. One outcome of the review may be that the goal needs to be decomposed across multiple sprints if it exceeds the capacity of the development team. The team also plans for how they will work together to complete the sprint. This may include discussions around the risks and contingencies, test plans. An option available to the development team is to pair the members of the team to work on certain stories. For example, it may be advantages for a front-end developer and the back-end developer to pair with one another to ensure that APIs are well established. During the course of the sprint, the scrim team gathers a daily for 15 minutes of meeting to report the progress and roadblocks. This meeting is referred to as a daily scrum and its purpose is for each member of the team to review what was accomplished towards the sprint goal. Since the last meeting, what is to be accomplished by the next meeting and to identify any obstacles? The goal of this meeting is to make sure that there is a transparency across the team to both success and roadblocks. The daily scrum is not intended to solve issues or problems during the meeting but expose them to the entire team and 40 mates to schedule the time to work on them. At the end of each sprint, a sprint review is conducted to demonstrate the working product to the customer. This is an all-hands meeting attended by the customer representatives, the product owner, and the scrum team. This meeting is an opportunity to get a direct customer feedback on the state of the product, discuss the issues and possible changes or new features and to decide on what to do next. The sprint review allows the development team to receive unfiltered feedback directly from the customer and involves both the customer and the development team in identifying the next steps. In this respect, the sprint review provides timely and relevant input to the next sprint planning session. The sprint retrospective is conducted by and for the scrum team to promote continuous improvement. It is the primary means to the team users to improve their work and to drive value not just for the customer but also for themselves in the form of a more integrated and smoothly operating team. Scrum is an effective methodology that is simple to understand but often challenging to implement due to its radical differences from traditional methodology. Next, we will see a MCQ question to reflect the content what we learned. Product backlog should be ordered on the basis of the answer is the value of the items being delivered. The product backlog that contains the items that to be delivered. Next, one more MCQ. In an agile environment, what is the main responsibility of the tester? What is the role of the tester? The answer is in agile team it is a cross functional team so there is no separate tester as all the team members they know the concept of testing so the answer is E there is no role of as a tester in a scrum these are the references I refer thank you.