Chapter 24 The Study of a Loving Heart Sir Barnett and Lady Scattles, very good people, resided in a pretty villa at Fulham, on the banks of the Thames, which was one of the most desirable residences in the world, when a rowing-match happened to be going past, but had its little inconveniences at other times, among which may be enumerated the occasional appearance of the river in the drawing-room, and the contemporaneous disappearance of the lawn and shrubbery. Sir Barnett's gattles expressed his personal consequence chiefly through an antique gold soft-box, and a ponderous silk pocket kerchief, which he had an imposing manner of drawing out of his pocket like a banner, and using with both hands at once. Sir Barnett's object in life was constantly to extend the range of his acquaintance, like a heavy body dropped into water, not to disparage so worthy a gentleman by the comparison. It was in the nature of things that Sir Barnett must spread an ever-widening circle about him, until there was no room left. Or, like a sound in air, the vibration of which, according to the speculation of an ingenious modern philosopher, may go on travelling forever through the interminable fields of space. Nothing but coming to the end of his mortal tether could stop Sir Barnett's gattles in his voyage of discovery through the social system. Sir Barnett was proud of making people acquainted with people. He liked the thing for its own sake, and it advanced his favourite object, too. For example, if Sir Barnett had the good fortune to get hold of a law recruit, or a country gentleman, and ensnared him to his hospitable villa, Sir Barnett would say to him on the morning after his arrival, Now, my dear sir, is there anybody you would like to know? Who is there you would wish to meet? Do you take any interest in writing people, or in painting or sculpturing people, or in acting people, or in anything of that sort? Possibly the patient answered yes, and mentioned somebody of whom Sir Barnett had no more personal knowledge than of Ptolemy the Great. Sir Barnett replied that nothing on earth was easier as he knew him very well. Immediately called on the aforesaid somebody, left his card, wrote a short note, My dear sir, penalty of your eminent position, friend at my house naturally desirous, Lady Sgetles and myself participate, trust that genius, being superior to ceremonies, you will do us the distinguished favour of giving us the pleasure, etc., etc., and so killed abrasive birds with one stone, dead as doornails. With the snuff-box and banner in full force, Sir Barnett Sgetles propounded his usual inquiry to Florence on the first morning of her visit. When Florence thanked him, and said there was no one in particular whom she desired to see, it was natural she should think with a pang of poor lost Walter, when Sir Barnett Sgetles, urging his kind offer, said, My dear Miss Donby, are you sure you can remember no one whom your good papa, to whom I beg you present the best compliments of myself and Lady Sgetles when you write, might wish you to know? It was natural perhaps that her poor head should droop a little, and that her voice should tremble as it softly answered in the negative. Sgetles, Jr., much stiffened as to his cravat, and sobered down as to his spirits, was at home for the holidays, and appeared to feel himself aggrieved by the solicitude of his excellent mother that he should be attentive to Florence. Another, and a deeper injury under which the soul of young Barnett chafed, was the company of Dr. and Mrs. Blimber, who had been invited on a visit to the paternal roof tree, and of whom the young gentleman often said he would have preferred their passing the vacation at Jericho. Is there anybody you can suggest now, Dr. Blimber? Said Sir Barnett, Sgetles, turning to that gentleman. You're very kind, Sir Barnett, returned Dr. Blimber. Really, I am not aware that there is in particular. I like to know my fellow man in general, Sir Barnett. What does Terence say? Anyone who is the parent of a son is interesting to me. Has Mrs. Blimber any wish to see any remarkable person? asked Sir Barnett, courteously. Mrs. Blimber replied, with a sweet smile, and a shake of her sky-blue cap, that if Sir Barnett could have made her known to Cicero, she would have troubled him. But such an introduction not being feasible, and she already enjoying the friendship of himself and his amiable lady, and possessing with the doctor her husband their joint confidence in regard to their dear son, here young Barnett was observed to curl his nose. She asked no more. Sir Barnett was faint under these circumstances, to content himself for the time with the company assembled. Florence was glad of that, for she had a study to pursue among them, and it lay too near her heart, and was too precious and momentous to yield to any other interest. There were some children staying in the house, children who were as frank and happy with fathers and with mothers as those rosy faces opposite home. Children who had no restraint upon their love, and freely showed it. Florence sought to learn a secret, sought to find out what it was she had missed, what simple art they knew, and she knew not, how she could be taught by them to show her father that she loved him, and to win his love again. Many a day did Florence thoughtfully observe these children. On many a bright morning did she leave her bed when the glorious sun rose, and walking up and down upon the river's bank, before anyone in the house was stirring, look up at the windows of their rooms, and think of them as sleep, so gently tended and affectionately thought of. Florence would feel more lonely then in the great house all along, and would think sometimes that she was better there than here, and that there was a greater peace in hiding herself than in mingling with others of her age, and finding how unlike them all she was. But attentive to her study, though it touched her to the quick that every little leaf she turned in the hard book, Florence remained among them, and tried with patient hope to gain the knowledge that she wearied for. Ah! How to gain it! How to know the charm in its beginning! They were daughters here who rose up in the morning, and lay down to rest at night, possessed of father's hearts already. They had no repulse to overcome, no coldness to dread, no frown to smooth away. As the morning advanced, and the windows opened one by one, and the dew began to dry upon the flowers, and youthful feet began to move upon the lawn, Florence glancing round at the bright faces thought what was there she could learn from these children. It was too late to learn from them. Each could approach her father fearlessly, and put up her lips to meet the ready kiss, and wind her arm about the neck that bent down to caress her. She could not begin by being so bold. Oh! could it be that there was less and less hope as she studied more and more? She remembered well that even the old woman who had robbed her when a little child, whose image and whose house and all she had said and done were stamped upon her recollection, with the enduring sharpness of a fearful impression made at that early period of life, had spoken fondly of her daughter, and how terribly even she had cried out in the pain of hopeless separation from her child. But her own mother, she would think again when she recalled this, had loved her well. Then, sometimes when her thoughts reverted swiftly to the void between herself and her father, Florence would tremble, and the tears would start upon her face, as she pictured to herself her mother living on, and coming also to dislike her because of her wanting the unknown grace that should conciliate that father naturally, and had never done so from her cradle. She knew that this imagination did wrong to her mother's memory, and had no truth in it, or base to rest upon. And yet she tried so hard to justify him, and to find the whole blame in herself, that she could not resist its passing like a wild cloud through the distance of her mind. There came among the other visitors, soon after Florence, one beautiful girl, three or four years younger than she, who was an orphan child, and who was accompanied by her aunt, a grey-haired lady, who spoke much to Florence, and who greatly liked, but that they all did, to hear her sing of an evening, and would always sit near her at that time with motherly interest. They had only been two days in the house, when Florence, being in an arbor in the garden one warm morning, musingly observant of a youthful group upon the turf, through some intervening boughs, and wreathing flowers for the head of one little creature among them, who was the pet and plaything of the rest. Heard this same lady and her niece, in pacing up and down a sheltered nuke close by, speak of herself. Is Florence an orphan like me, aunt? said the child. No, my love. She has no mother, but her father is living. Is she in mourning for her poor mama now? inquired the child quickly. No, for her only brother. Has she no other brother? None. No, sister. None. I am very, very sorry, said the little girl. As they stopped soon afterwards to watch some boats, and had been silent in the meantime, Florence, who had risen when she heard her name, and had gathered up her flowers to go and meet them, that they might know of her being within hearing, resumed her seat and work, expecting to hear no more. But the conversation recommenced next moment. Florence is a favourite with everyone here, and deserves to be, I'm sure, said the child earnestly. Where is her papa? The aunt replied, after a moment's pause, that she did not know. Her tone of voice arrested Florence, who had started from her seat again, and held her fastened to the spot, with her work hastily caught up to her bosom, and her two hands saving it from being scattered on the ground. He is in England, I hope, aunt, said the child. I believe so, yes, I know he is indeed. Has he ever been here? I believe not. No. Is he coming here to see her? I believe not. Is he lame, or blind, or ill, aunt? asked the child. The flowers that Florence held to her breast began to fall when she heard those words, so wanderingly spoke. She held them closer, and her face hung down upon them. Kate, said the lady, after another moment of silence, I will tell you the whole truth about Florence, as I have heard it, and believe it to be. Tell no one else, my dear, because it may be little known here, and your doing so would give her pain. I never will, exclaimed the child. I know you never will, returned the lady. I can trust you as myself. I fear then, Kate, that Florence's father cares little for her, very seldom sees her, never was kind to her in her life, and now quite shuns her and avoids her. She would love him dearly if he would suffer her, but he will not, though for no fault of hers, and she is greatly to be loved and pitied by all gentle hearts. More of the flowers that Florence held fell scattering on the ground. Those that remained were wet, but not with dew, and her face dropped upon her laden hands. Poor Florence! Dear good Florence! cried the child. Do you know why I have told you this, Kate, said the lady, that I may be very kind to her, and take great care to try to please her. Is that the reason out? Partly, said the lady. But not all. Though we see her so cheerful, with a pleasant smile for everyone, ready to oblige us all, and bearing her part in every amusement here, she can hardly be quite happy. Do you think she can, Kate? I am afraid not, said the little girl. And you can understand, pursued the lady, why her observation of children who have parents, who are fond of them and proud of them, like many here just now, should make her sorrowful in secret. Yes, dear aunt, said the child. I understand that very well. Poor Florence! More flowers strayed upon the ground, and those she yet held to her breast trembled as if her wintry wind were rustling them. My Kate! said the lady, whose voice was serious, but very calm and sweet, and had so impressed Florence from the first moment of her hearing it. Of all the youthful people here, you are her natural and harmless friend. You have not the innocent means that happier children have. They are none happier, aunt! exclaimed the child, who seemed to cling about her. As other children have, dear Kate, of reminding her of her misfortune. Therefore, I would have you, when you try to be her little friend, try all the more for that, and feel that the bereavement you sustained, thank heaven, before you knew its weight, gives you claim and hold upon poor Florence. But I am not without a parent's love, aunt, and I never have been, said the child, with you. However that may be, my dear, returned the lady, your misfortune is a lighter one than Florence's, for not an orphan in the wide world can be so deserted as the child who is an outcast from a living parent's love. The flowers were scattered on the ground like dust, the empty hands were spread upon the face, and often Florence, shrinking down upon the ground, wept long and bitterly. But true of heart and resolute in her good purpose, Florence held to it, as her dying mother held by her, upon the day that gave Paul life. He did not know how much she loved him. However long the time in coming, and however slow the interval, she must try to bring that knowledge to her father's heart one day or another. Meantime, she must be careful in no thoughtless word or look, or burst of feeling awakened by any chance circumstance, to complain against him, or to give occasion for these whispers to his prejudice. Even in the response she made the orphan child, to whom she was attracted strongly, and whom she had such occasion to remember, Florence was mindful of him. If she singled her out too plainly, Florence thought, from among the rest, she would confirm, in one mind certainly, perhaps in more, the belief that he was cruel and unnatural. Her own delight was no set off to this. What she had overheard was a reason, not for soothing herself, but for saving him. And Florence did it, in pursuance of the study of her heart. She did so always. If a book were read aloud, and there were anything in the story that pointed at an unkind father, she was in pain for the application of it to him, not for herself. So with any trifle of an interlude that was acted, or picture that was shown, or game that was played among them, the occasions for such tenderness towards him were so many that her mind misgave her often. It would indeed be better to go back to the old house, and live again within the shadow of its dull walls, undisturbed.   Florence pursued her study patiently, and, failing to acquire the secret of the nameless grace she sought, among the youthful company who were assembled in the house, often walked out alone in the early morning among the children of the poor. But still she found them all too far advanced to learn from. They had won their household places long ago, and did not stand without, as she did, with the bar across the door. There was one man whom she several times observed at work very early, and often with a girl of about her own age seated near him. He was a very poor man, who seemed to have no regular employment, but now went roaming about the banks of the river when the tide was low, looking out for bits and scraps in the mud, and now worked at the unpromising little patch of garden ground before his cottage, and now tinkered up a miserable old boat that belonged to him, or did some job of that kind for a neighbour, as chance occurred. Whatever the man's labour the girl was never employed, but sat when she was with him in a listless, moping state and idle. Florence had often wished to speak to this man, yet she had never taken courage to do so, as he made no movement towards her. But one morning when she happened to come upon him suddenly from a by-path among some pollard willows which terminated in the little shelving piece of stony ground that lay between his dwelling and the water, where he was bending over a fire he had made to cork the old boat which was lying bottom upwards close by. He raised his head at the sound of her footstep and gave her good morning. Good morning! said Florence, approaching nearer. You were at work early? I'd be glad to be often at work earlier, miss, if I had work to do. Is it so hard to get? asked Florence. I find it so, replied the man. Florence glanced to where the girl was sitting, drawn together with her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands, and said, Is that your daughter? He raised his head quickly and looking towards the girl with a brightened face nodded to her and said, Yes. Florence looked towards her, too, and gave her a kind salutation. The girl muttered something in return, ungraciously and sullenly. Is she in want of employment also? said Florence. The man shook his head. No, miss, he said, I'll work for both. Are there only you two, then? and cried Florence. Only asked two, said the man. Her mother has been dead these ten years. Martha! he lifted up his head again and whistled to her. Won't you say a word to the pretty young lady? The girl made an impatient gesture with her cowering shoulders and turned her head another way. Ugly, misshapen, peevish, ill-conditioned, ragged, dirty, but beloved. Oh, yes! Florence had seen her father's look towards her, and she knew whose look it had no likeness to. I'm afraid she's worse this morning, my poor girl. Said the man, suspending his work, and contemplating his ill-favoured child with a compassion that was the more tender for being rougher. She is ill, then, said Florence. The man drew a deep sigh. I don't believe my Martha's had five short days, good health. He answered, looking at her still, in as many long years. I, more than that, John, said a neighbour who had come down to help him with the boat.  Very like, it seems, a long, long time. And the more the time, pursued the neighbour, the more you favoured and humoured her, John, till she's got to be a burden to herself and everybody else. Not to me, said her father, falling to his work, not to me. Florence could feel, who better? How truly he spoke. She drew a little closer to him and would have been glad to touch his rugged hand and thank him for his goodness to the miserable object that he looked upon with eyes so different from any other man's. Who would favour my poor girl to call it favouring, if I didn't? said the father. I, I, cried the neighbour.  You bind yourself hand and foot on her account. You make your life miserable along of her. And what does she care? You don't believe she knows it? The father lifted up his head again and whistled to her. Martha made the same impatient gesture with her crouching shoulders in reply, and he was glad and happy. Only for that miss, to the neighbour with a smile in which there was more of secret sympathy than he expressed. Only to get that, he never lets her out of his sight. Because the day'll come, and has been coming a long while, observed the other, bending low over his work, when to get half as much from that unfortunate child of mine, to get the trembling of a finger or the waving of a hair, would be to raise the dead. Florence softly put some money near his hand on the old boat, and left him. And now Florence began to think. If she were to fall ill, if she were to fade like her dear brother, would he then know that she had loved him? Would she then grow dear to him? Would he come to her bedside, when she was weak and dim of sight, and take her into his embrace, and cancel all the past? Would he so forgive her, in that changed condition, for not having been able to lay open her childish heart to him, as to make it easy to relate with what emotions she had gone out of his room that night, what she had meant to say if she had had the courage, and how she had endeavoured afterwards to learn the way she never knew in infancy? Yes, she thought if she were dying, he would relent. She thought that if she'd lay serene and not unwilling to depart, upon the bed that was curtain-drowned with recollections of their darling boy, he would be touched home, and would say, Dear Florence, live for me, and we will love each other as we might have done, and be as happy as we might have been these many years. She thought that if she heard such words from him, and had her arms clasped round him, she could answer with a smile. It is too late for anything but this, I never could be happier, dear father, and so leave him with a blessing on her lips. The golden water she remembered on the wall appeared to Florence, in the light of such reflections, only as a current flowing on to rest, and to a region where the dear ones gone before were waiting hand in hand, and often when she looked upon the darker river rippling at her feet, she thought with awful wonder, but not terror, of that river which her brother had so often said was bearing him away. The father and his sick daughter were yet fresh in Florence's mind, and indeed that incident was not a week old when Sir Barnet and his lady, going out walking in the lanes one afternoon, proposed to her to bear them company. Florence readily consenting Lady Scattles ordered out Young Barnet as a matter of course, for nothing delighted Lady Scattles so much as beholding her eldest son with Florence on his arm. Barnet, to say the truth, appeared to entertain an opposite sentiment on the subject, and on such occasions frequently expressed himself audibly, though indefinitely, in reference to a parcel of girls. As it was not easy to ruffle her sweet temper, however, Florence generally reconciled the young gentleman to his fate after a few minutes, and they strode on amicably. Lady Scattles and Sir Barnet following, in a state of perfect complacency and high gratification. This was the order of procedure on the afternoon in question, and Florence had almost succeeded in overruling the present objections of Scattles, Jr., to his destiny, when a gentleman on horseback came riding by, looked at them earnestly as he passed, drew in his rein, wheeled round, and came riding back again, hat in hand. The gentleman had looked particularly at Florence, and when the little party stopped, on his riding back, he bowed to her, before saluting Sir Barnet and his lady. Florence had no remembrance of having ever seen him, but she started involuntarily when he came near her, and drew back.  It was not that, but something in the gentleman himself. Florence could not have said what, that made her recoil as if she had been stung. I have the honour to address Miss Dombey, I believe, said the gentleman with the most persuasive smile. On Florence inclining her head, he added, My name is Karka. I can hardly hope to be remembered by Miss Dombey, except by name Karka. Florence, sensible of a strange inclination to shiver, though the day was hot, presented him to her host and hostess, by whom he was very graciously received. I beg pardon, said Mr. Karka, a thousand times, but I am going down to-morrow morning to Mr. Dombey at Lemmington, and if Miss Dombey can entrust me with any commission, need I say how very happy I shall be. Sir Barnet immediately divining that Florence would desire to write a letter to her father, proposed to return, and besought Mr. Karka to come home and dine in his riding-gear. Mr. Karka had the misfortune to be engaged to dinner, but if Miss Dombey wished to write, nothing would delight him more than to accompany them back and to be her faithful slave, and waiting as long as she pleased. As he said this with his widest smile, and bent down close to her to pat his horse's neck, Florence meeting his eyes, saw, rather than heard him say, there is no news of the ship. Confused, frightened, shrinking from him, and not even sure that he had said those words, for he seemed to have shown them to her in some extraordinary manner through his smile instead of uttering them. Florence faintly said that she was obliged to him, but she would not write. She had nothing to say. Nothing to send, Miss Dombey? said the man of teeth. Nothing, said Florence, but my dear love, if you please. Disturbed as Florence was, she raised her eyes to his face with an imploring and expressive look that plainly besought him, if he knew, which he has plainly did, that any message between her and her father was an uncommon charge, but that one most of all to spare her. Mr. Carcass smiled and bowed low, and being charged by Sir Barnet with the best compliments of himself and Lady Sketles, took his leave and rode away, leaving a favourable impression on that worthy couple. Florence was seized with such a shudder as he went, that Sir Barnet, adopting the popular superstition, supposed somebody was passing over her grave. Mr. Carcass turning a corner on the instant, looked back, and bowed, and disappeared, as if he rode off to the churchyard straight to do it. Chapter 25 Of Dombey and Son This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recorded by Mill Nicholson. Dombey and Son by Charles Dickens Chapter 25 Strange News of Uncle Sol Captain Cuddle, though no sluggard, did not turn out so early on the morning after he had seen Sol Gills through the shop window, writing in the parlour, with the midshipman upon the counter, and Rob the grinder making up his bed below it, but that the clocks struck six, as he raised himself on his elbow, and took a survey of his little chamber. The captain's eyes must have done severe duty, if he usually opened them as wide on awaking as he did that morning, and were but roughly rewarded for their vigilance, if he generally rubbed them half as hard. But the occasion was no common one, for Rob the grinder had certainly never stood in the doorway of Captain Cuddle's room before, and in it he stood then, panting at the captain, with a flushed and tousiled air of bed about him, that greatly heightened both his colour and expression. Hallour! roared the captain. What's the matter? Before Rob could stammer a word in answer, Captain Cuddle turned out, all in a heap, and covered the boy's mouth with his hand. Steady, my lad! said the captain. Don't you speak a word to me as yet! The captain, looking at his visitor in great consternation, gently shouldered him into the next room, after laying this injunction upon him, and disappearing for a few moments, forthwith returned in the blue suit. Holding up his hand, in token of the injunction not yet being taken off, Captain Cuddle walked up to the cupboard and poured himself out a dram, a counterpart of which he handed to the messenger. The captain then stood himself up in a corner, against the wall, as if to forestall the possibility of being knocked backwards by the communication that was to be made to him. And having swallowed his liquor, with his eyes fixed on the messenger, at his face as pale as his face could be, requested him to heave ahead. Do you mean tell you, Captain? asked Rob, who had been greatly impressed by these precautions. Aye, said the captain. Well, sir, said Rob, I ain't got much to tell, but look here. Rob produced a bundle of keys. The captain surveyed them, remained in his corner, and surveyed the messenger. And look here! pursued Rob. The boy produced a sealed packet, which Captain Cuddle stared at, as he had stared at the keys. When I woke this morning, Captain, said Rob, which was about a quarter after five, I found these on my pillow. The shop door was unbolted and unlocked, and Mr. Gill was gone. Gone! roared the captain. Flowed, sir! returned Rob. The captain's voice was so tremendous, and he came out of his corner with such a way on him, that Rob retreated before him into another corner, holding out the keys and packet to prevent himself from being run down. For Captain Cuddle, sir, cried Rob, is on the keys and on the packet too. Upon my word and honour, Captain Cuddle, I don't know anything more about it. I wish I may die if I do. He is a situation for a lad that just got a situation. Cried the unfortunate grinder, screwing his cuff into his face. His master bolted with his place, and him blamed for it. These lamentations had reference to Captain Cuddle's gaze, or rather glare, which was full of vague suspicions, threatenings, and denunciations. Taking the prophet packet from his hand, the captain opened it and read as follows. My dear Ned Cuddle, enclosed as my will, the captain turned it over with a doubtful look. And testament. Where is the testament? said the captain, instantly impeaching the ill-fated grinder. What have you done with that, my lad? I never see it, whimpered Rob. Don't keep on suspecting an innocent lad, Captain. I never attached the testament. Captain Cuddle shook his head, implying that somebody must be made answerable for it, and gravely proceeded. Which don't break open for a year, or until you have decisive intelligence of my dear Walter, who is dear to you, Ned, too, I am sure. The captain paused and shook his head in some emotion. Then, as a re-establishment of his dignity in this trying position, looked with exceeding sternness at the grinder. If you should never hear of me, or see me more, Ned, remember an old friend, as he will remember you to the last, kindly. And at least, until the period I have mentioned has expired, keep a home in the old place for Walter. There are no debts, the loan from Donby's house is paid off, and all my keys I send with this. Keep this quiet, and make no inquiry for me, it is useless. So no more, dear Ned, from your true friend, Solomon Gills. The captain took a long breath, and then read these words written below. The boy Rob, well recommended, as I told you, from Donby's house. If all else should come to the hammer, take care, Ned, of the little midshipman. To convey to posterity any idea of the manner in which the captain, after turning this letter over and over, and reading it a score of times, sat down in his chair, and held a court-martial on the subject in his own mind, would require the united genius of all the great men, who, discarding their own untoward days, have determined to go down to posterity, and have never got there. At first the captain was too much confounded and distressed to think of anything but the letter itself. And even when his thoughts began to glance upon the various attendant facts, they might, perhaps, as well have occupied themselves with their former theme, for any light they reflected on them. In this state of mind, Captain Cattle having the grinder before the court, and no one else, founded a great relief to decide, generally, that he was an object of suspicion, which the captain so clearly expressed in his visage, that Rob remonstrated. Oh, don't, Captain! cried the grinder. I wonder how you can? What have I done to be looked at like that?  I haven't been, and committed nothing, Captain! answered Rob. Keep her free, then, said the captain impressively, and rode easy. With a deep sense of the responsibility imposed upon him, and the necessity of thoroughly fathoming this mysterious affair, as became a man in his relations with the parties, Captain Cattle resolved to go down and examine the premises, and to keep the grinder with him. Considering that youth is under arrest at present, the captain was in some doubt whether it might not be expedient to handcuff him, or tie his ankles together, or attach a weight to his legs. But not being clear as to the legality of such formalities, the captain decided merely to hold him by the shoulder all the way, and knock him down if he made any objection. However, he made none, and consequently got to the instrument maker's house without being placed under any more stringent restraint. As the shutters were not yet taken down, the captain's first care was to have the shop opened, and when the daylight was freely admitted, he proceeded with its aid to further investigation. The captain's first care was to establish himself in a chair in the shop, as president of the solemn tribunal that was sitting within him, and to require Rob to lie down in his bed under the counter, show exactly where he discovered the keys and packet when he awoke, how he found the door when he went to try it, how he started off to bring place, cautiously preventing the latter imitation from being carried farther than the threshold, and so on to the end of the chapter. When all this had been done several times, the captain took his head and seemed to think the matter had a bad look. Next, the captain, with some indistinct idea of finding a body, instituted a strict search over the whole house, groping in the cellars with a lighted candle, thrusting his hook behind doors, bringing his head into violent contact with beams, and covering himself with cobwebs. Mounting up to the old man's bedroom, they found that he had not been in bed on the previous night, but had merely lain down on the coverlet, as was evident from the impression yet remaining there. And I think, captain, said Rob, looking round the room, that when Mr. Gilles was going in and out so often, these last few days, he was hatin' little things away, piecemeal, not to attract attention. I, said the captain mysteriously, why so, my lad? Why, returned Rob, looking about, I don't see a shaving-tackle, nor his brushes, captain, nor now shirts, nor yet his shoes. As each of these articles was mentioned, Captain Cattle took particular notice of the corresponding department of the grinder, lest he should appear to have been in recent use, or should prove to be in present possession thereof. But Rob had no occasion to shave, was not brushed, and wore the clothes he had on for a long time past, beyond all possibility of a mistake. And what should you say, said the captain, not committing yourself, about his time of shearing off, eh? Why, I think, captain, returned Rob, that he must have gone pretty soon after I began to snore. What o'clock was that? said the captain, prepared to be very particular about the exact time. How can I tell, captain? answered Rob. I only know that I'm a heavy sleeper at first, and a light one towards morning, and if Mr. Gilles had come through the shop near Daybreak, though ever so much on tiptoe, I'm pretty sure I should have heard him shut the door to all events. On mature consideration of this evidence, Captain Cattle began to think that the instrument-maker must have vanished of his own accord, to which logical conclusion he was assisted by the letter addressed to himself, which, as being undeniably in the old man's handwriting, would seem with no great forcing to bear the construction that he arranged of his own will to go, and so went. The captain had next to consider where and why, and as there was no way whatsoever that he saw to the solution of the first difficulty, he confined his meditations to the second.  Unequal to the wear and tear of daily life, as he had often professed himself to be, and shaken as he no doubt was by the uncertainty and deferred hope he had undergone, it seemed no violently strained misgiving, but only too probable. Free from debt, and with no fear for his personal liberty, or the seizure of his goods, what else was such a state of madness could have hurried him away alone and secretly? As to his carrying some apparel with him, if he had really done so, and they were not even sure of that, he might have done so, the captain argued, to prevent inquiry, to distract attention from his probable fate, or to ease the very mind that was now revolving all these possibilities. Such, reduced into plain language, and condensed within a small compass, was the final result and substance of Captain Cuttle's deliberations, which took a long time to arrive at this pass, and were, like some more public deliberations, very discursive and disorderly. Dejected and despondent in the extreme, Captain Cuttle felt it just to release Rob from the arrest in which he had placed him, and to enlarge him, subject to a kind of honourable inspection which he still resolved to exercise.  Not a station house, or bone house, or work house in the Metropolis escaped a visitation from the hard-laced hat. Along the wharves, among the shipping on the bankside, up the river, down the river, here, there, everywhere, it went gleaming where men were thickest, like the hero's helmet in an epic battle. For a whole week the captain read of all the found and missing people in all the newspapers and handbills, and went forth on expeditions at all hours of the day to identify Solomon Gills, in poor little ship-boys who had fallen overboard, and in tall foreigners with dark beards who had taken poison to make sure, Captain Cuttle said, that it weren't him, it is sure thing that it never was, and that the good captain had no other satisfaction. Captain Cuttle had last abandoned these attempts as hopeless, and set himself to consider what was to be done next. After several new perusals of his poor friend's letter, he considered that the maintenance of a home in the old place for Walter was the primary duty imposed upon him. Therefore the captain's decision was that he would keep house on the premises of Solomon Gills himself, and would go into the instrument business and see what came of it. But as this step involved the relinquishment of his apartments at Mrs. McStingers, and he knew that Resolute Woman would never hear of his deserting them, the captain took the desperate determination of running away. Now look you hear, my lad, said the captain to Rob when he had matured this notable scheme. Tomorrow I shan't be found in this here roadstead till night, not till our midnight perhaps, but you keep watch till you hear me knock, and the moment you do turn to and open the door. Very good, captain, said Rob. You continue to be righted on these ear books, pursued the captain condescendingly, and I don't say but what you may get promotion if you and me should put together with a will. But the moment you hear me knock tomorrow night, whatever time it is, turn to and show yourself smart with the door. I'll be sure to do it, captain, replied Rob, because you understand, presumed the captain, coming back again to enforce this charge upon his mind, there may be, for anything I can say, a chase, and I might be took while I was waiting, if you didn't show yourself smart with the door. Rob again assured the captain that he would be prompt and wakeful, and the captain, having made this prudent arrangement, went home to Mrs. McStingers for the last time. The sense the captain had of its being the last time, and of the awful purpose hidden beneath his blue waistcoat, inspired him with such a mortal dread of Mrs. McStinger, that the sound of that lady's foot downstairs at any time of the day was sufficient to throw him into a fit of trembling. It fell out, too, that Mrs. McStinger was in a charming temper, mild and placid as a house lamb, and Captain Cattles, as conscience, suffered terrible twinges, and she came up to inquire if she could cook him nothing for his dinner. A nice small kidney pudding now, Captain Cattles, said his landlady, or a sheep's heart. Don't mind my trouble. No, thank ye, ma'am, returned the captain. Ever roast fell, said Mrs. McStinger, with a bit of wheel-stuffing, and some egg sauce. Come, Captain Cattles, give yourself a little treat. No, thank ye, ma'am, returned the captain, very humbly. I'm sure you're out of sorts, and want to be stimulated, said Mrs. McStinger. Why not have, for once in a way, a bottle of sherry wine? Well, ma'am, rejoined the captain, if you'd be so good as to take a glass or two, I think I would try that. Would you do me the favour, ma'am? said the captain, torn to pieces by his conscience, to accept a quarter's rent ahead. And why so, Captain Cattles? retorted Mrs. McStinger sharply, as the captain thought. The captain was frightened to death. If you would, ma'am, he said with submission, it would oblige me. I can't keep my money very well. It pays itself out. I should take it kind, if you comply. Well, Captain Cattles, said the unconscious McStinger, rubbing her hands. You can do as you please. It's not for me with my family to refuse, no more than it is to ask. And would you, ma'am? said the captain, taking down the tin canister, in which he kept his cash, from the top shelf of the cupboard. Be so good, as offer eighteen pints apiece to the little family all round. If you could make it convenient, ma'am, to pass the word presently, for them children to come forward in a body, or you should be glad to see them. These innocent McStingers were so many daggers to the captain's breast, when they appeared in a swarm, and tore at him with the confiding trustfulness he so little deserved. The eye of Alexander McStinger, who had been his favourite, was insupportable to the captain. The voice of Juliana McStinger, who was the picture of her mother, made a coward of him. Captain Cattles kept up appearances nevertheless tolerably well, and for an hour or two was very hardly used and roughly handled by the young McStingers, who in their childish follicks did a little damage also to the glazed hat, by sitting in it, two at a time, as in a nest, and drumming on the inside of the crown with their shoes. At length the captain sorrowfully dismissed them, taking leave of these cherubs with the poignant remorse and grief of a man who was going to execution. In the silence of the night, the captain packed up his heavier property in a chest, which he locked, intending to leave it there, in all probability for ever, but on the forlorn chance of one day finding a man sufficiently bold and desperate to come and ask for it. Of his lighter necessaries, the captain made a bundle, and disposed his plate about his person ready for flight. At the hour of midnight, when Brigplace was buried in slumber, and Mrs. McStinger was lulled in sweet oblivion with her infants around her, the guilty captain, stealing down on tiptoe in the dark, opened the door, closed it softly after him, and took to his heels. Pursued by the image of Mrs. McStinger springing out of bed, and regardless of costume, following and bringing him back, pursued also by a consciousness of his enormous crime, Captain Cattle held on at a great pace, and allowed no grass to grow under his feet, between Brigplace and the instrument-maker's door. It opened when he knocked, for Rob was on the watch, and when it was bolted and locked behind him, Captain Cattle felt comparatively safe. Phew! cried the captain, looking round him. It's a breather. Nothing the matter is there, Captain! cried the gaping Rob. No, no, said Captain Cattle, after changing colour and listening to a passing footstep in the street. But mind ye, my lad, if any lady, except either of them twos you see t'other day, ever comes and asks for Captain Cattle, be sure to report no person of that name known, no never heard of here, or preserve them orders, will ye? I'll take care, Captain! returned Rob. You might say, if you liked, hesitated the captain, that you'd read in the paper that a captain of that name was gone to Australia, emigrating along with the whole ship's complement of people as it all swore never to come back no more. Rob nodded his understanding of these instructions, and Captain Cattle promising to make a man of him if he obeyed orders, dismissed him, yawning to his bed under the counter, and went aloft to the chamber of Solomon Gill's. What the captain suffered next day, whenever a bonnet passed, or how often he darted out of the shop to elude imaginary mech-stingers, and sought safety in the attic, cannot be told. But to avoid the fatigues attendant on this means of self-preservation, the captain curtained the glass door of communication between the shop and parlor on the inside, fitted a key to it from the bunch that had been sent to him, and cut a small hole of a spile in the wall. The advantage of this fortification is obvious. On a bonnet appearing, the captain instantly slipped into his garrison, locked himself up, and took a secret observation of the enemy. Finding it a false alarm, the captain instantly slipped out again. And the bonnets in the street were so very numerous, and alarms were so inseparable from their appearance, that the captain was almost incessantly slipping in and out all day long. Captain Cattle found time, however, in the midst of this fatiguing service, to inspect the stock, in connection with which he had the general idea, very laborious to rob, that too much friction could not be bestowed upon it, and that it could not be made too bright. He also ticketed a few attractive-looking articles at a venture, at prices ranging from ten shillings to fifty pounds, and exposed them in the window to the great astonishment of the public. After effecting these improvements, Captain Cattle, surrounded by the instruments, began to feel scientific, and looked up at the stars at night through the skylight, when he was smoking his pipe in the little back parlor before going to bed, as if he had established a kind of property in them. As a tradesman in the city, too, he began to have an interest in the Lord Mayor, and the sheriffs, and in public companies, and felt bound to read the quotations of the funds every day, though he was unable to make out, on any principle of navigation, what the figures meant, and could have very well dispensed with the fractions. Florence, the captain, waited on with this strange news of Uncle Saul, immediately after taking possession of the midshipman, but he was away from home. So the captain set himself down in his altered station of life, with no company but Rob the Grinder, and losing count of time, as men do when great changes come upon them, thought musingly of Walter, and of Solomon Gill's, and even of Mrs. Maxdinger herself, as among the things that had been. End of Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Of Dombe and Son This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recorded by Mill Nicholson. Dombe and Son by Charles Dickens. Chapter 26 Shadows of the Past and Future Your most obedient, sir, said the Major. Damn, sir! A friend of my friend Dombe's is a friend of mine, and I am glad to see you. I am infinitely obliged, Carca. Explained Mr. Dombe. To Major Bagstock, for his company and conversation. Major Bagstock has rendered me great service, Carca. Mr. Carca the Manager, hat in hand, just arrived at Lemmington, and just introduced to the Major, showed the Major his whole double range of teeth, and trusted he might take the liberty of thanking him with all his heart for having affected so great an improvement in Mr. Dombe's looks and spirits. By God, sir! said the Major in reply. There are no thanks due to me, for it's a give and take affair. A great creature like our friend Dombe, sir! said the Major, lowering his voice, but not lowering it so much as to render it inaudible to that gentleman. Cannot help improving and exalting his friends. He strengthens and invigorates a man, sir, does Dombe, in his moral nature. Mr. Carca snapped at the expression, in his moral nature, exactly the very words he had been on the point of suggesting. But when my friend Dombe, sir, had the Major, talks to you of Major Bagstock, I must crave leave to set him and you right. He means plain Joseph, Joey B, Josh, Bagstock, Joseph, rough and tough old Jay, sir, at your service. Mr. Carca's excessively friendly inclinations towards the Major, and Mr. Carca's admiration of his roughness, toughness, and plainness, gleamed out of every tooth in Mr. Carca's head. And now, sir, said the Major, you and Dombe have the devil's own amount of business to talk over. By no means, Major, observed Mr. Dombe. Dombe, said the Major defiantly, I know better. The man of your mark, the colossus of commerce, is not to be interrupted. Your moments are precious. We shall meet at dinnertime. In the interval old Joseph will be scarce. The dinner hour is a sharp seven, Mr. Carca. With that, the Major, greatly swollen as to his face, withdrew. But immediately putting in his head at the door again, said, I beg your pardon, Dombe? Have you any message to him? Mr. Dombe, in some embarrassment, and not without a glance at the courteous keeper of his business confidence, entrusted the Major with his compliments. By the Lord, sir, said the Major, you must make it something warmer than that, or old Joe will be far from welcome. Regards, then, if you will, Major, returned Mr. Dombe.  Make it something warmer than that. What you please, then, Major? Observed Mr. Dombe. Our friend is sly, sir. Sly, sir. Devilishly sly, said the Major, staring round the door at Carca. So is Bagstock. But stopping in the midst of a chuckle, and drawing himself up to his full height, the Major solemnly exclaimed, as he struck himself on the chest, Dombe, I envy your feelings. God bless you. And withdrew. You must have found the gentleman a great resource, said Carca, following him with his teeth. Very great indeed, said Mr. Dombe. He has friends here, no doubt, pursued Carca. I perceive from what he has said that you're going to society here.  Mr. Dombe acknowledged this display of interest on the part of his second in command, by twirling his watch chain and slightly moving his head. You were formed for society, said Carca. Of all the men I know, you are the best adapted, by nature and by position, for society. And you know, I have been frequently amazed that you should have held it at arm's length so long. I have had my reasons, Carca. I have been alone, and indifferent to it. But you have great social qualification to yourself, and are the more likely to have been surprised. Oh, I! returned the other with ready self-disparagement. It's quite another matter in the case of a man like me. I don't come into comparison with you. Mr. Dombe put his hand to his neck-cloth, settled his chin in it, coughed, and stood looking at his faithful friend and servant for a few moments in silence. I shall have the pleasure, Carca, said Mr. Dombe at length, making as if he swallowed something a little too large for his throat, to present you to the major's friends, highly agreeable people. Ladies among them, I presume, insinuated the smooth manager. They are all, that is to say, they are both ladies, replied Mr. Dombe. Only two, smiled Carca. They are only two. I have confined my visits to their residence, and have made no other acquaintance here. Sisters, perhaps, clothed Carca. Mother and daughter, replied Mr. Dombe.  As Mr. Dombe raised his eyes, it changed back no less quickly to its old expression, and showed him every gum of which it stood possessed. You are very kind, said Carca. I shall be delighted to know them. Speaking of daughters, I have seen Mr. Dombe. There was a sudden rush of blood to Mr. Dombe's face. I took the liberty of waiting on her, said Carca, to inquire if she could charge me with any little commission. I am not so fortunate as to be the bearer of any but her dear love.  What business intelligence is there? inquired the latter gentleman after a silence, during which Mr. Carca had produced some memoranda and other papers. And there is very little, returned Carca. Upon the whole we have not had our usual good fortune of late, but that is of little moment to you. At Lloyd's they give up the sun and air for lost. Well, she was insured from her keel to her mast-head. Carca, said Mr. Dombe, taking a chair near him.  Nor me, interposed the manager. But I wish, said Mr. Dombe, without heeding the interruption, he had never gone on board that ship. I wish he had never been sent out. It is a pity you didn't say so in good time, is it not? Taught at Carca, coolly. However, I think it's all for the best. I really think it's all for the best. Did I mention that there was something like a little confidence between Mr. Dombe and myself? No, said Mr. Dombe sternly. I have no doubt, returned Mr. Carca, after an impressive pause, that wherever gay is, he is much better where he is than at home here. If I were or could be in your place, I should be satisfied of that. I am quite satisfied of it myself. Miss Dombe is confiding and young, perhaps hardly proud enough for your daughter, if she have a fault. Not that that is much, though, I'm sure. Will you check these balances with me? Mr. Dombe leaned back in his chair, instead of bending over the papers that were laid before him, and looked the manager steadily in the face. The manager, with his eyelids slightly raised, affected to be glancing at his figures, and to await the leisure of his principal. He showed that he affected this as if from great delicacy, and with the design to spare Mr. Dombe's feelings. And the latter, as he looked at him, was cognizant of his intended consideration, and felt that but for it, this confidential Carca would have said a great deal more, which he, Mr. Dombe, was too proud to ask for. It was his way in business, often. Little by little Mr. Dombe's gaze relaxed, and his attention became diverted to the papers before him. But while busy with the occupation they afforded him, he frequently stopped and looked at Mr. Carca again. Whenever he did so, Mr. Carca was demonstrative, as before, in his delicacy, and impressed it on his great chief more and more. While they were thus engaged, and under the skilful culture of the manager, angry thoughts in reference to poor Florence brooded and bred in Mr. Dombe's breast, usurping the place of the cold dislike that generally reigned there. Major Bagstock, much admired by the old ladies of Leamington, and followed by the native, carrying the usual amount of light baggage, straddled along the shady side of the way to make a morning call on Mrs. Scuton. It being midday when the major reached the bower of Cleopatra, he had the good fortune to find his princess on her usual sofa, languishing over a cup of coffee, with the room so darkened and shaded for her more luxurious repose, that withers, who is in tendance on her, loomed like a phantom page. What insupportable creature is this coming in? said Mrs. Scuton. I cannot bear it.  You have not the heart to banish J. B. Marm? said the major, halting midway, to remonstrate with his cane over his shoulder. Oh, it's you, is it? On second thoughts, you may enter, observed Cleopatra. The major entered accordingly, and advancing to the sofa, pressed her charming hand to his lips. Sit down, said Cleopatra, listlessly waving her fan, a long way off. Don't come too near me, for I am frightfully faint and sensitive this morning, and you smell of the sun. You're absolutely tropical. By George Marm, said the major, the time has been when Joseph Bagstock has been grilled and blistered by the sun. Then time was, when he was forced, Marm, into such full blow, by high, hot-house heat in the West Indies, that he was known as the flower. A man never heard of Bagstock, Marm, in those days. He heard of the flower, the flower of ours. The flower may have faded, more or less, Marm, observed the major, dropping into a much nearer chair than had been indicated by his cruel divinity, but it is a tough plant yet, and constant as the evergreen.  Where is Mrs. Granger? inquired Cleopatra of her page. Withers believed she was in her own room.  I am engaged. As Withers disappeared, Mrs. Stuton turned her head languidly towards the major, without otherwise moving, and asked him how his friend was. Dombi, Marm, returned the major, with a facetious gurgling in his throat, is as well as a man in his condition can be. His condition is a desperate one, Marm. He has touched his Dombi. Touched! cried the major. He is bayonetted through the body. Cleopatra cast a sharp look at the major, that contrasted forcibly with the affected drawl in which she presently said, Major bags-dock, although I know but little of the world, nor can I really regret my experience, for I fear it is a false place, full of withering conventionalities, where nature is but little regarded, and where the music of the heart, and the gushing of the soul, and all that sort of thing which is so truly poetical, is seldom heard. I cannot misunderstand your meaning. There is an allusion to Edith. To my extremely dear child, said Mrs. Skuten, tracing the outline of her eyebrows with her forefinger, in your words, to which the tenderest of chords vibrate successively. Bluntness, Marm, returned the major, has ever been the characteristic of the bag-stock breed. You're right. Joe admits it. And that allusion, pursued Cleopatra, would involve one of the most, if not positively the most, touching and thrilling and sacred emotions of which our sadly fallen nature is susceptible, I conceive. The major laid his hand upon his lips, and wafted a kiss to Cleopatra, as if to identify the emotion in question. I feel that I am weak. I feel that I am wanting in that energy, which should sustain a mamar, not to say a parent, on such a subject, said Mrs. Skuten, trimming her lips with the laced edge of her pocket-anchief. But I can hardly approach a topic so excessively momentous to my dearest Edith, without a feeling of faintness. Nevertheless, bad man, as you have boldly remarked upon it, and as it has occasioned me great anguish, Mrs. Skuten touched her left side with her fan, I will not shrink from my duty. The major, under cover of the dimness, swelled and swelled, and rolled his purple face about, and winked his lobs to eye, until he fell into a fit of wheezing, which obliged him to rise, and take a turn or two about the room, before his fair friend could proceed. Mr. Donby, said Mrs. Skuten, when she at length resumed, was obliging enough, now many weeks ago, to do us the honour of visiting us here, in company, my dear major, with yourself.  I know my failing full well. My enemy cannot know it better. But I am not penitent. I would rather not be frozen by the heartless world, and am content to bear this imputation justly. Mrs. Skuten arranged her tucker, pinched her wiry throat to give it a soft surface, and went on with great complacency. It gave me, my dearest Edith, too, I am sure, infinite pleasure to receive Mr. Donby. As a friend of yours, my dear major, we were naturally disposed to be prepossessed in his favour, and I fancied that I observed an amount of heart in Mr. Donby that was excessively refreshing. There is devilish little heart in Donby now, ma'am, said the major. Wretched man! cried Mrs. Skuten, looking at him languidly. Pray be silent! J.B. is dumb, ma'am, said the major. Mr. Donby pursued Cleopatra, smoothing the rosy hue upon her cheeks. Accordingly repeated his visit, and possibly vining some attraction in the simplicity and primitiveness of our tastes. For there is always a charm in nature. It is so very sweet. Became one of our little circle every evening. Little did I think of the awful responsibility into which I plunged, when I encouraged Mr. Donby, too. To beat up these quarters, ma'am, suggested Major Bagstock. Course, person! said Mrs. Skuten, you anticipate my meaning, though in odious language. Here Mrs. Skuten rested her elbow on the little table at her side, and suffering her wrist to droop, in what she considered a graceful and becoming manner, dangled her fan to and fro, and lazily admired her hand while speaking. The agony I have endured, she said mincingly, as the truth has by degrees dawned upon me, has been too exceedingly terrific to dilate upon. My whole existence is bound up in my sweetest edus, and to see her change from day to day, my beautiful pet, who has positively garnered up her heart, since the death of that most delightful creature, Granger, is the most affecting thing in the world. Mrs. Skuten's world was not a very trying one, if one might judge of it by the influence of its most affecting circumstance upon her. But this, by the way. Edith, simpered Mrs. Skuten, who is the perfect pearl of my life, is said to resemble me. I believe we are alike. There is one man in the world who never will admit that anyone resembles you, ma'am, said the Major, and that man's name is Old Joe Backstock. Cleopatra made as if she would brain a flatterer with her fan, but relenting smiled upon him and proceeded. If my charming girl inherits any advantages from me, wicked one, the Major was the wicked one, she inherits also my foolish nature. She has great force of character, mine has been said to be immense, though I don't believe it, but once moved she is susceptible and sensitive to the last extent. What are my feelings when I see her pining? They destroy me. The Major advancing his double chin and pursing up his blue lips into a soothing expression affected the profoundest sympathy. The confidence, said Mrs. Skuten, that has subsisted between us. The free development of soul and openness of sentiment is touching to think of. We have been more like sisters than mamar and child. JB's own sentiment, observed the Major, expressed by JB fifty thousand times. Do not interrupt, rude man! said Cleopatra. What are my feelings, then, when I find that there is one subject avoided by us, that there is a what-is-name, a gulf open between us, that my own arcless edith is changed to me. They are of the most poignant description, of course. The Major left his chair and took one nearer to the little table. From day to day I see this, my dear Major, proceeded Mrs. Skuten. From day to day I feel this. From hour to hour I will approach myself for that excess of faith and trustfulness which has led to such distressing consequences. And almost a minute to minute I hope that Mr. Dombay may explain himself, and relieve the torture I undergo, which is extremely wearing. But nothing happens, my dear Major. I am the slave of remorse. Take care of the coffee-cup, you're so very awkward. My darling edith is an altered being, and I really don't see what is to be done, or what good creature I can advise with. Major Bagstock, encouraged perhaps by the softened and confidential tone into which Mrs. Skuten, after several times lapsing into it for a moment, seemed now to have subsided for good. Stretched out his hand across the little table, and said with the leer, Advise with Joe-man! Then you, aggravating monster, said Cleopatra, giving one hand to the Major, and tapping his knuckles with her fan, which he held in the other. Why don't you talk to me? You know what I mean. Why don't you tell me something to the purpose? The Major laughed, and kissed the hand she had bestowed upon him, and laughed again immensely. Is there as much heart in Mr. Donby as I gave him credit for? Languished Cleopatra tenderly. Do you think he is an earnest, my dear Major? Would you recommend his being spoken to, or his being left alone? Now tell me, like a dear man, what would you advise? Shall we marry him to Edith Grangerman? chuckled the Major hoarsely. Mysterious creature! returned Cleopatra, bringing her fan to bear upon the Major's nose. How can we marry him? Shall we marry him to Edith Grangerman, I say? chuckled the Major again. Mrs. Stuton returned no answer in words, but smiled upon the Major with so much archness and vivacity, that that gallant officer, considering himself challenged, would have imprinted a kiss on her exceedingly red lips, but for her interposing the fan with the very winning and juvenile dexterity. It might have been in modesty, it might have been an apprehension of some danger to their bloom. Donby, ma'am, said the Major, is a great catch. Oh, mercenary wretch! cried Cleopatra with a little sheik. I am shocked! And Donby, ma'am, pursued the Major, trusting forward his head and distending his eyes, is in earnest. Joseph says it. Bagstock knows it. JB keeps him to the mark. Leave Donby to himself, ma'am. Donby a safe, ma'am. Do as you have done. Do no more, and trust JB for the end. You really think so, my dear Major? Returned Cleopatra, who had eyed him very cautiously, and very searchingly, in spite of her listless bearing. Sure of it, ma'am! rejoined the Major. Cleopatra, the peerless, and her Anthony Bagstock, will often speak of this triumphantly, when sharing the elegance and wealth of Edith Donby's establishment. Donby's right-hand man, ma'am, said the Major, stopping abruptly in a chuckle and becoming serious, has arrived. This morning, said Cleopatra, this morning, ma'am, returned the Major, and Donby's anxiety for his arrival, ma'am, is to be referred. Take JB's word for this, for Joe is devilish sly.  To his desire that what is in the wind should become known to him without Donby's telling and consulting him, for Donby is as proud, ma'am, said the Major, as Lucifer. A charming quality, list, Mrs. Gutten, reminding one of dearest Edith. Well, ma'am, said the Major, I have thrown out hints already, and the right-hand man understands him, and I'll throw out more before the day is done. Donby, projected this morning, arrived to Warwick Castle, and to Kenilworth, tomorrow, to be preceded by a breakfast with us. I undertook the delivery of this invitation. Will you honour us so far, ma'am? said the Major, swelling with shortness of breath and slinus, as he produced a note addressed to the Honourable Mrs. Gutten by favour of Major Bagstock, wherein hers ever faithfully, Paul Donby, besought her and her amiable and accomplished daughter to consent to the proposed excursion, and in postscript unto which the same ever faithfully Paul Donby and treated to be recalled to the remembrance of Mrs. Granger. Hush! said Cleopatra suddenly. Edith! The loving mother can scarcely be described as resuming her insipid and affected air when she made the exclamation, for she had never cast it off, nor is it likely that she ever would, or could, in any other place than in the grave. But hurriedly dismissing whatever shadow of earnestness, or faint confession of a purpose, lordable or wicked, that her face or voice or manner had for the moment betrayed, she lounged upon the couch, her most insipid and most languid self again, as Edith entered the room. Edith! so beautiful and stately, but so cold and so repelling, who, slightly acknowledging the presence of Major Bagstock, and directing a keen glance at her mother, drew back the curtain from a window, and sat down there, looking out. My dearest Edith! said Mrs. Gutten, where on earth have you been? I have wanted you, my love, most sadly. You said you were engaged, and I stayed away, she answered, without turning her head. It was cruel to old Joe Marm! said the Major in his gallantry. It was very cruel, I know, she said, still looking out, and said with such calm disdain, that the Major was discomforted, and could think of nothing in reply. Major Bagstock, my darling Edith, told her mother, who is gently the most useless and disagreeable creature in the world, as you know, it is surely not worthwhile, Mamar, said Edith, looking round, to observe these forms of speech. We are quite alone, we know each other. The quiet scorn that sat upon her handsome face, a scorn that evidently lighted on herself no less than them, was so intense and deep, that her mother's simper for the instant, though of a hardy constitution, drooped before it. My darling girl! she began again. Not woman yet, said Edith, with a smile. How very odd you are to-day, my dear! Pray let me say, my love, that Major Bagstock has brought the kinders of notes, who Mr. Donby, proposing that we should breakfast with him to-morrow, and ride to Warwick and Kendallworth. Will you go, Edith? Will I go? she repeated, turning very red, and breathing quickly, as she looked round at her mother. I knew you would, my own, observed the latter carelessly. It is, as you say, quite a form to ask. Here is Mr. Donby's letter, Edith. Thank you. I have no desire to read it, was her answer. Then perhaps I had better answer it myself, said Mrs. Kewton, though I had thought of asking you to be my secretary, darling. As Edith made no movement, and no answer, Mrs. Kewton begged the Major to wheel her little table nearer, and to set open the desk it contained, and to take out pen and paper for her, all which congenial officers of gallantry the Major discharged, with much submission and devotion. Your regards, Edith, my dear, said Mrs. Kewton, pausing pen in hand at the post-script. What you will, Mama! she answered, without turning her head, and with supreme indifference. Mrs. Kewton wrote what she would, without seeking for any more explicit directions, and handed her letter to the Major, who, receiving it as a precious charge, made a show of laying it near his heart, but was feigned to put it in the pocket of his pantaloons on account of the insecurity of his waistcoat. The Major then took a very polished and chivalrous farewell of both ladies, which the elder one acknowledged in her usual manner, while the younger, sitting with her face addressed to the window, bent her head so slightly that it would have been a greater compliment to the Major to have made no sign at all, and to have left him to infer that he had not been heard or thought of. As to alteration in her, sir, used the Major on his way back, on which expedition, the afternoon being sunny and hot, he ordered the native and the light baggage to the front, and walked in the shadow of that expatriated prince. As to alteration, sir, and pining, and so forth, that won't go down with Joseph Bagstock. None of that, sir. It won't do here. But as to there being something of a division between him, or a gulf, as the mother calls it. Damn, sir, that seems true enough. And it's odd enough. Well, sir, panted the Major. Edith Granger and Donby are well matched. Let him fight it out. Bagstock backs the winner. The Major, by saying these latter words aloud in the vigor of his thoughts, caused the unhappy native to stop and turn round in the belief that he was personally addressed. Exasperated to the last degree by this act of insubordination, the Major, though he was swelling with enjoyment of his own humour at the moment of its occurrence, instantly thrust his cane among the native's ribs, and continued to stir him up at short intervals all the way to the hotel. Nor was the Major less exasperated as he dressed for dinner, during which operation the dark servant underwent the pelting of a shower of miscellaneous objects, varying in size from a boot to a hairbrush, and including everything that came within his master's reach. For the Major plumed himself on having the native in a perfect state of drill, and visited the least departure from strict discipline with this kind of fatigue duty. Add to this that he maintained the native about his person as a counter irritant against the gout, and all other vexations, mental as well as bodily, and the native would appear to have earned his pay, which was not large. At length the Major having disposed of all the missiles that were convenient to his hand, and having called the native so many new names as must have given him great occasion to marvel at the resources of the English language, submitted to have his cravat put on, and being dressed and finding himself in a brisk flow of spirits after this exercise went downstairs to enliven Donby and his right-hand man. Donby was not yet in the room, but the right-hand man was there, and his dental treasures were as usual ready for the Major. Well, sir, said the Major, how have you passed the time since I had the happiness of meeting you? Have you walked at all? A saunter of barely half an hour's duration, returned Caca, we have been so much occupied. Business, eh? said the Major. A variety of little matters necessary to be gone through, replied Caca. But, do you know, this is quite unusual with me, educated in a distrustful school, and who am not generally disposed to be communicative. He said, breaking off, and speaking in a charming tone of frankness. But I feel quite confidential with you, Major Bagstock. You do me honours, sir! returned the Major. You may be. Do you know, then, this suit, Caca, that I have not found my friend—our friend—I ought rather to call him? Meaning, Donby, sir? cried the Major. You see me, Mr. Caca, standing here, JB? He was puffy enough to see, and blue enough, and Mr. Caca intimated that he had that pleasure. Then you see a man, sir, who would go through fire and water to serve Donby. Returned Major Bagstock. Mr. Caca smiled, and said he was sure of it. Do you know, Major? he proceeded, to resume where I left off, that I have not found our friend so attentive to business today, as usual. No, observed the delighted Major. I have found him a little abstracted, and with his attention disposed to wonder, said Caca. By Jota! cried the Major. There is a lady in the case. Indeed, I begin to believe there really is, returned Caca. I thought you might be jesting when you seemed to hint at it, for I know you military men.  He then seized Mr. Caca by the button-hole. And with starting eyes, whispered in his ear, That she was a woman of extraordinary charms, sir. That she was a young widow, sir. That she was of a fine family, sir. That Donby was overhead and ears in love with her, sir. And that it would be a good match on both sides, for she had beauty, blood, and talent, and Donby had fortune. And what more could any couple have? Hearing Mr. Donby's footsteps without, the Major cut himself short by saying That Mr. Caca would see her tomorrow morning, and would judge for himself. And between his mental excitement, and the exertion of saying all this in wheezy whispers, The Major sat gurgling in the throat, and watering at the eyes, until dinner was ready. The Major, like some other noble animals, exhibited himself to great advantage at feeding time. On this occasion, he shone resplendent at one end of the table, supported by the milder luster of Mr. Donby at the other, while Caca, on one side, lent his ray to either light, or suffered it to merge into both, as occasion arose. During the first course or two, the Major was usually grave, for the native, in obedience to general orders secretly issued, collected every source and crewer to round him, and gave him a great deal to do in taking out the stoppers, and mixing up the contents in his plate. Besides which, the native had private zests and flavours on a side table, with which the Major daily scorched himself, to say nothing of strange machines, out of which he spirited unknown liquids into the Major's drink. But on this occasion Major Bagstock, even amidst these many occupations, found time to be social, and his sociality consisted in excessive slinus for the behoof of Mr. Caca, and the betrayal of Mr. Donby's state of mind. Donby? said the Major. You don't eat. What's the matter? Thank you, returned the gentleman. I am doing very well. I have no great appetite today. Why, Donby, what's become of it? asked the Major. Where's it gone? You haven't left it with our friends, I'll swear, or I can answer for there having none today at luncheon. I can answer for one of them at least. I won't say which. Then the Major winked at Caca, and became so frightfully sly, that his dark attendant was obliged to pat him on the back, without orders, or he would probably have disappeared under the table. In the later stage of the dinner, that is to say when the native stood at the Major's elbow, ready to serve the first bottle of champagne, the Major became still slyer. Fill this to the brim, you scoundrel! said the Major, holding up his glass. Fill Mr. Caca's to the brim, too. And Mr. Donby's, too. Bye, dear gentleman! said the Major, winking at his new friend, while Mr. Donby looked into his plate with a conscious air. We'll consecrate this glass of wine to a divinity whom Joe is proud to know, and at a distance humbly and reverently to admire. Edith, said the Major, is her name Angelic Edith. To Angelic Edith cried the smiling Caca. Edith, by all means, said Mr. Donby. The entrance of the waiters with new dishes caused the Major to be slyer yet, but in a more serious vein. Although among ourselves Joe Bagstock mingles jest and earnest on this subject, sir, said the Major, laying his finger on his lips and speaking half apart to Caca, he holds that name too sacred to be made the property of these fellows, or of any fellows, not a word, sir, while they are here. This was respectful and becoming on the Major's part, and Mr. Donby plainly felt it so. Although embarrassed in his own frigid way by the Major's illusions, Mr. Donby had no objection to such rallying, it was clear, but rather courted it. Perhaps the Major had been pretty near the tooth, when he had divined that morning at the great man who was too haughty formally to consult with, or confide in his prime minister, on such a matter, yet wished him to be fully possessed of it. Let this be how it may, he often glanced at Mr. Caca, while the Major plied his light artillery, and seemed watchful of its effect upon him. But the Major, having secured an attentive listener, and a smiler who had not his match in all the world, in short a devilish, intelligent, and able fellow, as he often afterwards declared, was not going to let him off with a little slinus personal to Mr. Donby. Therefore, under removal of the cloth, the Major developed himself as a choice of spirit in the broader and more comprehensive range of narrating regimental stories, and cracking regimental jokes, which he did with such a prodigal exuberance, that Caca was, or feigned to be, quite exhausted with laughter and admiration. While Mr. Donby looked on over his starched cravat, like the Major's proprietor, or like a stately showman who was glad to see his bear dancing well. When the Major was too hoarse with meat and drink, and the display of his social powers, to render himself intelligible any longer, they adjourned to coffee. After which the Major inquired of Mr. Caca the manager, with little apparent hope of an answer in the affirmative, if he played P.K. Yes, I play P.K. a little, said Mr. Caca. Backgammon, perhaps? observed the Major, hesitating. Yes, I play Backgammon a little, too, replied the man of teeth. Caca plays at all games, I believe, said Mr. Donby, laying himself on a sofa like a man of wood, without a hinge or a joint in him, and plays them well. In Soothe he played the two in question to such perfection that the Major was astonished, and asked him at random if he played Chess. Yes, I play Chess a little, answered Caca. I have sometimes played and won a game. It's a mere trick, without seeing the board. By Jad, sir, said the Major, staring.  Oh, he, returned the manager. He has never had occasion to acquire such little arts. The men like me they are sometimes useful, as at present Major Bagstock, when they enable me to take a hand with you. It might be only the false mouth, so smooth and wide, and yet there seemed to lurk beneath the humility and subserviency of this short speech, a something like a snarl, and for a moment one might have thought that the white teeth were prone to bite the hand they formed upon. But the Major thought nothing about it, and Mr. Donby lay meditating with his eyes half shut, during the whole of the play, which lasted until bedtime. By that time Mr. Caca, though the winner, had mounted high into the Major's good opinion, in so much that when he left the Major at his own room before going to bed, the Major, as a special attention, sent the native, who always rested on a mattress, spread upon the ground at his master's door, along the gallery to light him to his room in state. There was a faint blur on the surface of the mirror in Mr. Caca's chamber, and its reflection was perhaps a false one. But it showed that night the image of a man who saw in his fancy a crowd of people slumbering on the ground at his feet, like the poor native at his master's door, who picked his way among them, looking down maliciously enough, but trod upon no upturned face, as yet. End of Chapter 26


Hi everyone, I'm Brittany and this is my design trends report for 2019 My name is Brittany Bowering and this is digital design trends for 2019 How was that? Was that a pretty good reporter? Not bad. I'm gonna take you through what I've found in all of my research I was you know, just up all night long You know just studying reading everything so that you don't have to isn't that great? I talked also to all of our head designers here at AJ and Smart Got their opinions on what they think is going to be important basically in the coming year So jumping into 2019 after watching this video. Well, you'll have all the information you need, right? Right. So let's just get started. Basically, I'm gonna take you through I've got all these tabs open of the things that I've found that I think are really important And of course, it's not just this one person who I'll show you has mentioned the trend It's probably come from various different points But I'll show you kind of what I think are the the big ones that just kind of kept popping up So the first one that is also I think for me most interesting is the Minimalism trend so this kind of actually crosses into a lot of different categories But the basic idea actually I'll show you here on my page. I have This kind of blog. It's just all about minimalism in design and they talk about Minimalism actually is which I think is important to define when you're actually telling someone it's the trend so the Webster dictionary defines it as a styler technique that is characterized by extreme sparseness or simplicity So I think this is really interesting because a lot of times I mean in the past years what has been like the most common kind of issue in product design or Something that we've been trying to solve is engagement. We want to engage people We want them to spend a long time on our apps We want them to you know, there's screen time to him to increase and now we're really making a pretty conscious shift Into basically the opposite so people are talking a lot about you know, making sure that you're not actually Engaging the user when you don't need to be you know making sure that when you're Asking them for things or when they're moving through your product. You're not just like throwing Unnecessary notifications at them or pop-ups and all these kind of annoying things people are even more like Anxious and busy and overwhelmed as it is in this modern world So I think it's important that we as product designers and in this industry are just kind of being mindful of that So another thing from this an ass Nacir. He talks about like time-saving design features Like people are really really busy So you want to actually make sure that the time that they spend using your product or your service is For good reason or you know, you're actually Providing value for them. So, you know talking about designing with common use and user navigation patterns Context specific features. That's interesting Gentle nudges he calls them, which I think is kind of interesting I hate that he says the word pop-up though because I think the world would be a better place with less pop-ups But it's kind of interesting, you know He's just sort of talking about how we need to kind of keep the user in mind a little bit more Going forward and what are the common issues that they're facing in their lives Which are very often like anxiety and overwhelm. He also down here talks about like getting rid of common annoyances This is an interesting article. He talks You know, I mean people are using an average of 30 apps per month and about 10 a day, which is a lot actually Interesting that he talks about 2019 could be the beginning of the end of passwords So actually just using like verification codes and not having to think of all these passwords constantly It's gonna be kind of helpful So talking about here page load times storage space Transitioning from one device to another. That's interesting making sure that you know, you're it's a cohesive experience for the user So I think that I mean I did talk about minimalism before which what which I kind of Got out of that I got out of that Talk there, but the point that I think is really important is that you know, we I mean Apple's talking a lot about it I think Google as well just about actually Like reducing screen time I'm getting pop-up messages on my phone all the time telling me how much screen time whether it was more or less than more or less than last Week and I think that is important to be conscious of moving forward into into 2019. So first one minimalism the second one is the internet of things so More specifically in that realm is voice I mean, I know that that's also like a common thing that everybody's talking about But you know, there's a huge rise in smart home devices like things like nest things like Google assistant Obviously like Siri as well This photo is just I can't look at this photo without thinking that it's like just a little bit There's just something weird about it. I don't know. It's not a good photo. Let's just say that so this person cat Cadabra studios I would I would have put another photo in there if I were you but super interesting, I mean by 2030 30% of searches will be done without a keyboard or screen. I think that's something really to be conscious of so how can your product or service? Actually interact with these voice assistants and how can you make that a streamlined process and actually delight your user with that? It's going to be really really interesting Yeah, so this time what e-commerce here. Yeah, so combining voice technology and Preset commands so customers and can simply ask for what they want and get it I mean a good great example of this is how Google assistant has actually integrated with uber Basically what they're doing is you can actually say to your Google assistant order me an uber to go to work and Google assistant knows where you work They know where you live and they can just order it instantly without you having to put in all that extra information It's a really good example of integrated voice Interfaces so that is definitely going to be a big one the third one which is cool for me because I work a lot in this sort Of category is the third kind of trend that a lot of people are talking about is content focused Experiences, so this is coming from like a prediction upcoming UX trends from Academy XI Yeah, it's super interesting They're talking about how you need to make sure that the content that you're actually showing the user and the way that you're Guiding them through it is like a delightful experience and isn't you know, you're not giving them too much You're not confusing them. You're not overwhelming them So it's like 2019 one of the biggest trends will be the ability to tell compelling stories around a digital experience I think that's really really important to think about they're talking about like live video and video ads So that's more like the marketing around your product, but also super important to keep in mind I mean we talked about it all the time how UX design and product designers should know more about the business more about the marketing Of their products. It's really important to keep that in mind when you're building them Yeah, I think that in summary for the content focused experience is the idea is just that it's important that people have a nice pleasant time interacting with your product or your service so in you know It means that like words actually matter a lot the content whether it's video or animation or just text It's important that you think a lot about that and that shouldn't be a second step It shouldn't be you know, even the content writer the copywriter should actually be involved in sort of more in the development phase So I think that's really interesting moving forward into 2019 The next one is talking about it's down here This one is also from Anas Nasir, and he's talking about making personalized Experiences for the user and how you know making them a little bit more more streamlined So, you know whether it's in the form of emails based on knowledge of previous website interactions or text messages You know, it's important that your UX is actually personalized to the user. It's gonna be pretty big in 2019 He's talking here about chatbots. I find that interesting because I kind of think chatbots are on the outs But that's just me personally. So don't you know, don't Don't look too much into that, but I think the voices on this way in and I think chatbots are kind of a thing of the past I know myself. I just hate interacting with the chatbot. I really find it super impersonal Which is interesting because Facebook, of course, they're popping up all the time Do you want to see like if I'm running ads or something on Facebook? It's always like your ad performed like this Do you want to see more information? And I guess it's interesting that they can, you know Quickly do that in the form of a conversation It does create a little bit of this personalized feeling But I think that just in general we can use a lot more of that. Let's see here Yeah, paying. Okay, this is cool. So based on trend scene today This means paying attention to things like transparency and security now we live in Germany Which like security data protection is really really big But I think it's really cool that like this is going to kind of transcend into the rest of the world I mean, it makes sense right like like with what's going on politically right now People are really into transparency.  So I think it's important to to think about that, you know Think about the political space what's happening and then like actually seeing how that translates or Figuring out how that translates into product design and, you know, the things that you're building Yeah, so that's kind of a really cool one. I think that's that's quite interesting to think about He also goes into talking about in more Detail about that. So definitely we'll have all the links for these articles down below So you can read them all yourself in depth if you so choose Now the next one that is kind of interesting is just more of like an industry focused Trend and we've talked a little bit about this in the past videos And like I think two videos ago. I think we talked about this John did just about how The way that we define UX as an industry and the way that the actual positions are Called and what your actual job title and role will be Is going to change a lot. So what's interesting right now? It's not really an article Actually, it's more of a report, but it's a state of the ux in 2019. I think it looks really nice I really like the way it looks. So we've seen quite a lot this year if you're curating and sharing 2239 links with these are the amount of people I guess who have read them 260,000 designers They've isolated these trends basically coming from that. So that's kind of interesting. This is a really cool one I would I would suggest reading it. But one thing that I thought was really cool was this like everyone is a lead So you're all excited. You're like, oh, I'm a design leave.  And I think it's kind of funny It's very telling for where the industry was at back then So we are seeing a bit of a shift But what's interesting is based on based on like a scan of the market There's like everybody's looking for senior UX designers It seems like that is sort of the base level for what you need on a product team And I think that that is going to maybe shift a little bit, you know going forward because we've got a lot of Entry level UX designers coming in and they won't have the knowledge or experience to be seniors So I think that's really something kind of interesting. So they kind of sum up 2019 We start looking at seniority through new lenses. So be proud of your lead title You know, that's cool But if you consider seniority from the perspective of how much impact you're able to make Then you have a better sense of where you are along in your career trajectory That's really interesting. So then they kind of go on to talk about actually Strategy and making sure that you can be bigger part of the business other than just, you know, creating You know the visual design or the even the you know the experience design So that's kind of cool article that and I would definitely recommend reading. It's really insightful. Cool Let's move on to the last thing actually So that was like five trends that we just talked about the last thing Which I think is kind of interesting and we were having some pretty heated debates here at ajn smart about this Is a flat design versus material design So there are some designers who are predicting that material design is going to kind of take over flat design I would be really curious to know what you guys think about that. It's yeah It's basically kind of a debate right now in our office. So yeah I'd like to know what you guys think and then we can kind of tell you what we think I'll show you mine if you show me yours. Was that too much? Maybe maybe it was too much. Sometimes I am too much. Okay, good So, um, yeah, I'll put this link down here as well. So you can kind of actually learn what the difference is between the two things Yeah, maybe we can just go through really quickly flat design. So Yeah, entirely opposite of side design absence of details. So flat design absence of each details simplified and faint colors So think of super simple streamlined material design. So this is so they call it like semi flat That's funny or flat design 2.0 It's a little bit more paper-esque. Yeah, so you can see here So it's like things look like almost like a piece of paper But still in a flat way. So it doesn't have that real look either And people are thinking that that's actually going to be taking over a little bit more than flat design coming in 2019 So we'll see we'll see it'll be interesting Good And the last thing that I want to talk about before I let you guys go is one of our design leads here at A.J. and smart tim hoffer wrote an article in 2019 What in 2016 that I think is just super relevant He just was talking about like design trend reports and how it's kind of useless Read a bunch of reports and look into these kinds of things because you can never really tell Like he says here determining the trends of next year is like reading a reading tea leaves It's pretending to speculate about what might matter soon But it's always based on what the authors already know about the now, which I think is just very insightful Thank you tim. It's very true. I mean there could be a new technology that just jumps up In the next few months and that will just change everything. So we'll see but I think that that is really Yeah, just kind of interesting to remember like I've just told you a bunch of things that I found across the internet It might mean nothing. It might mean something, but I like to be informed So I think it's important, you know to just be informed about these things So that was my first ever trend report coming from a.j. and smart Brittany reporting from a.j. and smart on the trends for 2019 If you like this kind of video definitely give it a like if you would like to subscribe That would be even better. I have to say no, not even better. It would be just as good So thanks so much for listening. I hope that you enjoy this. I hope you learned something I'd love to know what you think is trending what you think in 2019 It's going to be really cool and it's going to you know, take the design world by storm So pop those down in the comments and we can start a little discussion Yeah, thanks so much for listening. Have a great day. Bye guys My name is Brittany Bowering and this is my digital trends report No, uh My name, this is Brittany Bowering reporting I think I actually at one point in my life as a child did want to be a reporter This is Brittany Bowering and this is the design report


What's your level of concern with Orchella? No. He checked out all right. No really swelling in there. I was very concerned, obviously, walking out there and worried about I didn't see it, or if it was a calf or a muscular thing. And he rolled his ankle a little bit, but I don't think it was anything big. And we just obviously decided to get him out of there right away, just in case to get some ice on it, make sure we didn't have any swelling in there. But I don't expect to be anything. So in your mind, there's no way that he's not a part of it on Friday? No, no way. What did you think of Tanaka coming out of the bullpen? Yeah, I thought he was all right. I thought the split was pretty good today. I wasn't throwing as hard today with really all his pitches, his fastball slider and split. I think he was pitching a little bit and working on some things. So I thought it was a good tune up for him as he gets ready to head in the postseason. Did you see what you wanted to see out of your high leverage guys, or was it just a matter of getting him out there, getting them a little bit of work? Yeah, Tommy wasn't real sharp there early. I thought he rallied a little bit there in the second half of the inning and made some pitches before Guzman was able to get the single on a change-up. He got up a little bit. So not his sharpest, but. And then Otto hung a pitch to the righty there with two strikes. But then I thought made some really good pitches and made some good pitches to lefties. And then Britt and Chappy, I thought, were real smooth. But the biggest thing was them getting out there and getting a work day in with, obviously, some days off coming here. This was a game that was somewhat meaningless for you guys. If this was a playoff game, could Urshala chicken it off? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I think he stays in. Yeah. He just slipped on something? Was it on the jump? I haven't seen. I haven't seen. No, it was on the jump. It was on that. I haven't seen the play yet. I just, you know, I was kind of blocked. I saw someone pointed. And then, you know, I saw him gimping around a little bit and I got a little concerned. But yeah, I think he would have stayed in. What did you take out of Tanaka's outing?  I feel like he did. And then I think he was just really wanting to make sure he worked on some things in his mind that he wanted to do ahead of, ahead of, obviously, the postseason. Right. We're going to.


Logistic regression analysis evaluates the relationship between predictor variables and a binary outcome, but has limitations in its application. This article was authored by Priya Rannanathan, C.S. Pramesh and Rakesh Agarwal.